Just a Silly Shower
by claidibabaa
Summary: “You’d better stop whatever you think you’re doing. I look out for her you know!” And Draco had stepped forward, till he was eye to eye with Harry, standing not a hair’s breadth away. “I look out for her too.” DHr
1. Just a Silly Shower

Disclaimer: Don't own it, J.K. Rowling does.

It was just a silly shower, wasn't it?

Lavender was right. She had exceeded her weekly ration of one shower. Her next turn would be in five days. No one was above this rule, created to save their badly needed resources. Not even the 'best friend of his holy-frickin Majesty, Harry Potter'.

She knew all of this, but still, she did not care. She needed so much to feel the cleansing water flow over her, to feel its cool touch wash away her dirt, her grime, and everything that had built up after her last mission. She felt dirty from her contact with this world, and tired, so tired. It had even got to the point where she felt loathe to touch her bed or any of her possessions, fearing that her body contaminated everything around her. It was insensible and illogical, she knew, but she couldn't help but want that one, tiny shower.

Just one, one more, she found herself whispering and almost chanting to Lavender, the Shower Nazi from hell. But Lavender was resolute. It was not fair, she argued. You've had your turn.

That bitch. Hermione seethed silently, furiously. That absolute bitch who was not good for anything else other than this bloody stupid useless job, who stood there in all her shower glory while people who actually contributed to the Cause had to go out there, day after day, and get soiled and contaminated from all the blood, all the screams, all the death, the crucios, the sweat, fear, and disgust that came from being under the glare of the evil one, of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…the one whom Hermione never had any trouble saying his name till today, till he had cast his terrifying red eyes on her, smiling his malevolent smile, full of yellow decaying teeth, and licked his lips. Till she had barely escaped his oily decaying touch on her long hair and neck, as she screamed from the pain and the crucio and the blood, sweat, grime, dirt, diseased, oily knarled hands with boils and yellowed fingernails feeling like snake skin and disease and…

She was slowly becoming more and more horrified on the spot, eyes wide and unseeing, fists clenched, as the scene replayed itself over and over in her head. No, she told herself, revolted, his fingernails did not rake into her scalp; it was only the hair…an insidious voice argued, then why did her scalp hurt so? Why did her fingers come away with blood when she combed through her hair? Blood from other curses! She shrieked inwardly. Blood from when her hair was pulled! Nothing more! But didn't you feel it? That evil voice whispered again. Feel his terrible yellow nails dig into your scalp, bringing his evilness into her bloodstream, infecting her, contaminating her, you're turning into him! Evil like him where you stand! Did you not feel anything when you Crucio-ed Goyle as you fled out with the others? Goyle, that stupid doorkeeper who didn't know left from right and probably wouldn't know how to repel a properly cast Stupefy or Rictusempra or Expelliamus even if he was hit point blank in the face?

Lavender was shouting at her, and she could hear people behind her muttering angrily about how she was wasting their valuable showering time when suddenly she heard an achingly familiar voice from her left.

"She can have my shower ration." Hermione turned, shocked as Draco Malfoy told Lavender to strike off his name on the list.

"But Malfoy!" Lavender complained, "She's already had her shower for this week, and she's not allowed another one till next!"

"What does it matter?" Malfoy said, coldly, "There's no difference if she or I have the shower, it's still the same amount of water used right? I'll just wait for my turn next week."

"Ok then," Lavender huffed, "have it your way. Granger, step forward to cubicle 3!"

Hermione turned, still shocked, to stare at Malfoy and to offer a feeble, "Thanks".

"No problem", he replied gruffly, "I have no need for such fripperies like showering, a simple Scourgify will do for me."

He walked away without another word, and Hermione walked forward to her much-needed shower. As the water fell over her head, her hair, and her body, washing away the day's trials, and evils, she spared a thought for the golden haired Draco, shivering as she imagined the cool water flowing past the curves of her body to be his long, sensual fingers, soothing her and cleansing her in ways that water never could.


	2. The 'Final Battle'

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' quoted directly from OoTP.

Author's Notes: I forgot to say that this is AU after the release HBP. It follows the events of OoTP to an extent though.

Chapter 2

For the next few days after the shower incident, Hermione watched Draco like a hawk, looking to see any sign of why he had given up his shower for her. Why would he do such a nice thing? And yet he betrayed no sign that anything was different. Malfoy took no notice of her, and continued to do as he always did before that day. And so Hermione watched him have dinner alone at the Great Hall, watched him practice spell-casting with the younger students, watched him lead his team in missions away from the Castle, and watched him tending to the wounded after such missions. She also fretted constantly about her own thoughts in the shower. Why would she think of him that way? She didn't like him at all. She was with Ron, remember? Sweet, bumbling, but honest Ron. Still, she could not stop thinking of Draco, and still, she watched him, not exactly knowing what she was hoping to see. But before she could even work up the courage to ask him why he did what he did, _it_ happened. What Molly Weasley had always feared would occur, happened, and it was nothing any of them had expected.

This was to be the Final Battle. This was to be their glorious victory after their toil, after the sweat, the fear, and the losses they had to sustain. The events leading up to this moment had been so hopeful, it made them so optimistic. Their raids were going well, and scores of Death Eaters had been captured and put into Azkaban. This was it, Hermione had thought. This was the end. She had looked at Harry going over the troops with pride. They were going to win.

And then, the unexpected. They were in the Parkinson's Italian mansion, curses flying everywhere that Hermione had to duck as she advanced forward. She shot a spell towards Pansy, incapacitating her as she crept along. Harry and Ron were ahead of her, and they were slowly but surely inching forward towards the theater in the middle of the mansion, where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named waited them. Finally, they were there, but as they blasted open the double doors, they heard a shriek and then a thud. Whipping around, Hermione gaped in shock as she saw Ginny Weasley lift her wand to shout Avada Kedavra at Dumbledore, who was leading the secondary sweep of the mansion. The great wizard, drained from his energy after the past few months of extremely dangerous operations toppled onto the marble floor and then lay still. She was still trying to process what had happened when a green light, quick as lightning, shot next to her, and Harry Potter flopped over like a dead fish, killed by the evil one, killed by his distraction when his mentor was felled by his lover. Something was shrieking inside of her, and yet something else was telling her to run, run away! Distantly, she heard Ron scream and run forward with the Gryffindor impulsiveness he was known for. A silent sweep of the evil one's wand and he was down. Ron. Her Ron. And then it was Pavarti, then Seamus, then George, then Lupin, and then she stood there, rooted to the floor as he turned his malignant red eyes on her, lecherous and sick smile twisting his purple lips.

He whispered, "Fervefacio." And she instantly fell to the ground, writhing and screaming as her blood boiled within her. The pain…the pain was horrible…oh it was so horrible. She was shrieking and crying and pleading for it to stop, she would do anything, just make it stop! In the haze of her pain she realized, horrified, that she was being cooked from the _inside_. Then, just as it started, the boiling suddenly stopped. She whimpered, looking up at him, at his sharp yellow teeth as he smiled, as he laughed, almost giggling at her pain. You sick bastard. She seethed. You were playing with me. You killed Harry. You killed my Ron. She vaguely heard someone shouting for everyone to retreat as she slowly stood up, panting on all fours at the exertion needed for the simple action of just _standing up_. She raised her wand, hand shaking, and screamed, "Crucio!"

He waved her curse away as he would an errant butterfly. "My dear Mudblood Granger," he hissed, "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you? The boy-who-lived is dead. '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_', remember child? I am invincible now. No one could touch me but he, and now he is gone."

Hermione could not believe it. She would not believe it. It could not be true. She shot curse after curse at the bastard. "Crucio! Expelliarmus! Rictusempra! Avada Kedavra! Sectumsempra! Crucio! CRUCIO!" Nothing worked, she realized, horrified, as she backed away, shaking. He merely laughed, cackled, as he waved curse after curse away before any of it got even a metre close.

"Oh, did I upset you? Hmm, what could I have done to do so? Oh, yes, why I remember now. Maybe it was because I've been raping the mind of your Miss Weasley for years now, ever since my younger self gave me access to that sweet, delicious mind of hers. So innocent, I rather enjoyed myself with that one, driving her insane. Or maybe it was because…" he stared at her, boring holes in her mind. She felt an alien force in her mind and recoiled, "Ah yes. So that's what it was. You don't even care about Potter, do you? Ronald, now was it? Young Master Weasley? Oh yes, missy. I know how you feel about him. Rest assured, death is not the end for him. I still have plans for your Ronald. Maybe as a marionette of sorts, hmm? I could animate him for you, you know. An inferi maybe? To do my bidding, give demonstrations on what happens to people who defy me, things like that? Or," and here his disgusting smile grew even wider, "Maybe I'll get him to kill you for me, how about that? Wouldn't that be nice?"

No, Hermione thought, sickened and terrified all at the same time. No no no no no no NO! She shrieked. She did not even know what she planned to do, only that she wanted to give that monster as much pain as she could, as much pain as he had given her. She prepared to hurl herself at Voldemort, imagining herself clawing out his dreadful red eyes, tearing his face off, when, mid-lunge, she felt strong arms grab her from behind. Long pale fingers pointed the wand it was holding to the arch of the doorway, and she heard a once again familiar voice shout "Attero!" before the entire archway collapsed, blocking them from Voldemort, who she could hear faintly screeching in anger. The view swam before her eyes, and she let the darkness overcome her.

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She woke in a dark, dank room. The silky sheets did nothing to alleviate the pain she felt deep in her bones. She was dizzy, nauseous, and could feel the bile in her throat start to come up.

Grey eyes looked into her brown ones anxiously and desperately, "Hermione! Hermione are you ok? Are you there? Hermione!"

"Oh gods," she heard another voice say, "Please let her be there. I don't think I could take it if she were like Miss Weasely as well. What happened when she was alone in that room with You-Know-Who?"

"Draco?" her voice sounded so soft and frail. Her throat was so dry she could hardly speak, "Draco? Did you get...Ron? Did you Draco? Please…"

"I'm sorry Hermione…" he looked away. "I did not have the time for the bodies."

She started to scream.

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Author's notes:

Fervefacio means 'Boil' in Latin, and Attero means 'Destroy', in Latin as well.


	3. Attack on Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Nope, still doesn't belong to me, no matter how much I dream.

Chapter 3

When she next came to, feeling weary but relatively pain-free, Hermione was able to better examine the room she being was kept in.

There was a slight musty scent, with the drip drip of water the only sound in the background. The walls of the room were made of stone, and there were battered, but still intact green and silver decorations bedecking the surroundings.

The bed opposite hers and the space around it was obviously occupied, and very neat. The other beds however, were in different states of disarray, but empty, and occupant-less, going by the lack of personal possessions adorning the shelves and cupboards. She was in one of the Slytherin rooms. Why?

She turned around on her side and stared at one of the walls. The Slytherin dungeons were bereft of the usual wide, expansive windows that were common at the Gryffindor Tower.

She felt strangely numb. She knew, technically, that Ron, Harry, Dumbledore and Lupin, amongst others, were dead, but for some reason the fact of the matter had not hit her yet. Oh, they were dead then. And so? The problem was that she kept thinking that if she walked out of this room right now, and walked back to the Gryffindor common room, that she would still see Harry and Ron, sitting in their usual seats on the comfortable couches, either playing Exploding Snap, Wizarding Chess, or talking about Quidditch or something like that. She still expected to see Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and cheeky smile round the corner if she went walking in the halls. She still clung on to the impossible dream that Professor Lupin would be at the next Order meeting, smiling wryly at her whenever Harry and Malfoy got into an argument. She could not believe otherwise. And so she stood up, walked out, and left the dungeons.

She did not start crying till she saw that the Gryffindor Tower had turned into a pile of rubble, large stones collapsed on top of one another, with a seared and strangely forlorn orange Chudley Cannons banner trapped under the devastation.

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It was Neville who had found her, sitting against a pillar, whimpering and struggling to control her sobs. "Oh my goodness Hermione, you're up! What're you doing wandering around the halls on your own? You're supposed to be recovering in Malfoy's room!"

He lifted her gently and put her arm around his neck, walking her back to the dungeons. She was too distraught to register the fact that she had been staying in Draco's room the entire time. "Neville…wha…what happened here?"

"Oh," he grimaced as if remembering a very unpleasant fact. "There was an attack."

"How?"

"One day ago. You've been asleep for three. A good thing too that you were in Malfoy's room and no one was in the Tower." He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh, "Well, no one was in the Tower because everyone who's supposed to be in there was either dead or in the Infirmary." He caught himself and bit his lip. "I'm…I'm sorry, Hermione. I…I… didn't mean to…"

She looked bleakly out a window and asked, softly, "Tell me about the attack."

It had been all a ruse, they found out. While they thought they were winning, they were actually being sucked, slowly but surely into a trap.

"Hah, and we thought we were doing so well too, what with all the Death Eaters usually retreating after our attacks, them never attacking us, and us catching so many of them. We should've realized, huh, that they were just bait to lull us into a false sense of security. I mean, look at all the people we put in Azkaban! Crabbe, Goyle (and not Crabbe and Goyle Seniors either, but Juniors!), Greengrass, Stevens, half the under-aged students from Slytherin…all the important ones, the ones in You-Know-Who's inner circle are still out there. The Zabinis' are one slippery family. Macnair, Nott, the Brocklehursts, of course, C&G Seniors, and the Lestranges." His face darkened at the last name.

"They were trying to make us think we were cornering them in a spot, so that we'd come out with our big guns in the supposedly 'Final Battle'. They wanted all our important people in one place so that they could eradicate the whole lot of us at one go. Too bad for them that Malfoy sounded the retreat."

Hermione looked up, surprised, "That was Malfoy?"

"Yeah, and he saved you too. Boy, Hermione, was he worried about you! Didn't let you out of his sight till Madam Pomfrey had treated you."

Hermione felt strangely touched at Malfoy's concern. She owed him. But she put this to the back of her mind for now and pressed Neville, "So, the attack?"

"Oh yeah…sorry about that. Well, the whole lot of us retreated as fast as we could back to Hogworts to regroup and tend to our wounded and things like that. And then two days later, a whole group of Death Eaters attacked, trying to bring Hogworts down on our heads! Luckily Malfoy took control of the situation and strengthened the wards around the castle along with a group of Professors, so only the Gryffindor Tower was damaged…or, well destroyed for that matter. The wards were the weakest around there. We wondered if Malfoy did it on purpose…"

Hermione furrowed her brows. Malfoy again. Why was he everywhere?

Nevilled continued, as they reached the wide open door to the Slytherin dungeons, "I think…Or, well, Malfoy thinks that now they've gotten our big guns, that they're gonna start coming out from where ever they were hiding, attacking us, the ministry and the muggleborns too. I mean, there's not many of us to stop them now and…"

But Hermione was no longer listening to him. "Yes Neville." She dismissed him absently, "Thanks for walking me in here, I'll be alright now."

"Oh…okay Hermione, you go back to bed, you should get some rest. Madam Pomfrey says that you need at least a week before you're completely cured."

She walked in, ignoring Neville as the portrait door swung closed. She was stopped in her tracks, however, when she saw a familiar figure with golden hair sitting pensively in front of the fire.

Author's Note: DHr interaction in the next chapter.


	4. How Many

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 4

She walked in, and asked quietly, "How many, Malfoy."

He started and stood up when he heard her speak. "Her…Granger! You're all right! I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

She ignored his concerned questioning, and continued tersely, as if she had not heard him at all, "Just tell me, Malfoy. How many!"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Looking into her eyes, he said, "Nine. Ten, if you count Ginny Weasley. All from the Parkinson's Mansion three days ago. No one was hurt in the attack on Hogwarts"

"Who." Her voice quivered.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his soft longish hair, nowadays no longer held back by gobs of gel, "Of those that you…hadn't seen already…McGonagall and Snape. Both done in by Ginny." He snorted, "It would've been more if Longbottom hadn't had the presence of mind to knock her lights out. Didn't know he had it in him," His voice held a tinge of respect for the clumsy Gryffindor that replaced the usual snide derision.

She tightened her hold on the headrest of the emerald couch. "McGonagall?"

"Yes."

She let out a soft "Oh", and sank into the chair. "Ginny," she said suddenly, as if she just remembered something, "you said...ten, if you count Ginny."

"The Weaselette's alive." He responded curtly. "It's just…" he hesitated, "it's just that she's not…altogether there."

"What do you mean?"

"She mad. Raving. Saying she has to rid the world of mudbloods, and that the heir's coming to help, or some such rot. We had to restrain her."

After a moment, he bit his lip and asked, "Do you wish to see her?"

"No." Hermione balked. "No. Not today…I can't…"

"I understand."

His empathy for her as evidenced by his swift, accepting reply was so sincere; that she felt a rush of gratitude to the boy she used to call 'an inbred ferret'.

A silence descended between them and she felt her face flush as she thought of what to say next.

"I um forgot to thank you. For saving my life. And for saving the school…Neville told me what happened. You seem to be everywhere! Helping everyone."

"Well, it was no problem." He scratched his back and looked away, seeming to Hermione as if he felt awkward somehow about the entire situation.

There was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth though as he said in a voice that was slightly more similar to his usual arrogant drawl, "Someone had to take charge, what with everyone running around like headless chickens!"

She responded haltingly, "We…were surprised. None of us saw any of it coming. Where were you the entire time?"

"In the second sweep, with Dumbledore, Ginny and Longbottom. Which was how I managed to see everything. It was a mess, Granger."

Hermione fingered the edge of her robes, as if coming to a decision about something. Then, she looked up imploringly, "Tell me."

"Are you sure?" He gazed into her eyes.

"Yes. Yes, Malfoy. I need to know." She begged.

He took a deep breath, "You…saw some of it. I was as shocked as you were. We were just coming out of the main entrance when the Weasel…when Ginny suddenly went berserk, killing Dumbledore. And she was so strong! McGonagall tried to shoot her down but she had some sort of…shield around her. And then she got Snape too before Longbottom stepped up and smashed this pricey looking Ming vase over her head. Pity about the vase, really. She went down instantly. But everything had gone to the dogs by then. Every member of our team was injured or dying in some way or another. So I called the retreat."

Malfoy turned to look hauntingly at her, "And…and then I went looking for you." He laughed nervously, "I was so worried. Do you know what it did to me when I saw Potter and Weasley and everyone down…and you, there, standing in front of the Dark Lord! I got the shock of my life when I saw you preparing to take a lunge at him!" He grew slightly more agitated as he remembered the terrifying scene he had witnessed, and paced around, gesturing wildly, "That was the stupidest thing you ever did Granger! Even for you, or any of your two thick friends!"

She tensed at this and said, coldly, "Don't talk about them like that."

He sneered, "I can talk about them however I want! It was all Potter's fault!" He let out a derisive grunt, "Imagine that! Fucking around with a girl for years and still not knowing You-Know-Who was inside her brain the whole while."

Her hand twitched and she took a sudden intake of breath, "Shut up."

And just like that, she saw him again. Harry, turning around, shocked and worried emerald eyes looking to see what had happened in the confusion amidst the mansion. A flash of sickly green later, and as she stared at him she could see his once warm and loving turn suddenly and rapidly blank; wide open but terrifyingly unseeing. It was as if…he was never there. There was nothing. Nothing and no one. Just like that, Harry was gone forever from her.

She saw him in her mind, saw that horrifying scene repeat itself over and over again, as if it were happening just before her eyes. What was the use? What was the use of this fight? They were going to lose. No one could kill the evil one now, the One-Who-Must-Not-Be -Named. He will come after her. He will come after all of them. One by one, they would all become like Harry, lifeless, never there, like ants to be crushed under his foot. He will come for them. She could not defeat him. She had tried so hard. They were all lost. All the blood, sweat, tears, crucio, hands….yellow wicked knarled hands, foul twisted smile…boiling blood…Harry and Ron…she was crying on the inside. Oh Harry and Ron, I need you. Why aren't you here? How can I go on without you two? How can we survive now? We cannot win. He will come for us all.

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Realization dawned upon Draco that his words were causing an immense amount of pain for Hermione. Her face was twisted and she kept clenching and unclenching her fists, a wide-eyed terrified look on her face. It reminded him of that same look he had seen on her at the showers all those weeks ago. That look…it had scared him. He had never been so frightened in his life, not even when the silly girl was standing up against Voldemort all by herself. It was as if she were disappearing within herself, trapped in some kind of never ending nightmare. Hermione. His Hermione, gone just like that, like she was not even there, like she had never even been there. Draco, you fucking idiot! He cursed himself for having been too blinded by his distaste for her two recently demised friends, for not stopping till the damage had already been done.

Panicky, he reached over to grab her shoulders, shouting, "Hermione! Hermione, look, I'm sorry. I'll…I'll stop talking about them like that, I swear! I won't mention them ever again! I'm wrong, I'm wrong and I'm a stupid man too blinded by hatred. I'm sorry, Hermione! Do you hear? I'm sorry! Please come back…oh please…don't be like this…come back to me…"

Her eyes finally focused on him in front of her. She snapped to attention and snarled, "Get your hands off me Malfoy! You don't know anything about them! They were the two bravest souls in the world and you have no right to speak of them that way!"

He watched, dismayed, as her eyes seemed to harden and as every warm feeling she might have had for him disappeared entirely. She now looked as she had all those years ago when they were third years, just as she was getting ready to slap him. He comforted himself on the fact however that a Hermione who hated him was infinitely better than one who was not there.

She glared daggers at him, before asking abruptly, "Why am I sleeping in your quarters?"

He had expected that she questioned him on this, sooner or later, and so he answered simply, "There was no room in the infirmary, and someone had to look after you. I volunteered."

"Well, I am perfectly fine now, thank you. I think it would be best if I moved to other rooms."

"No." said Draco forcefully. "No. You are not well yet," he argued.

Hermione seemed to become more furious at his controlling tone, "What do you mean I'm not well yet? I'm perfectly fine now! And you have no right to tell me what to do!"

Draco clenched his teeth. That stubborn witch! He set his face grimly and replied, "It was the Fervefacio, wasn't it?"

She looked at him, shocked. "How did you know?"

"I recognize the symptoms quite well, having suffered it myself in the past. At the hands of none other than the Dark Lord."

She was silent, and so he continued wearily, "You may think yourself well now, but that's because Madam Pomfrey has doused you with enough Pain-free potion to last a month. You are to take the potion for another week, but once that week is over, you will be weaned off it to prevent addiction. Once that happens, you will feel the pain." He grimaced at her stunned and upset expression. "Yes, there will still be pain. Not as bad as when the spell was first cast, nor will it be with you constantly. But the Fervefacio was designed to stay with you…to stay in your bones. There will be…terrible aches, aches that will wreak havoc upon you, especially at night. Madam Pomfrey will give you another potion that will help alleviate this pain, and it should almost disappear in six months or so."

"Almost?" she whispered fearfully.

His heart went out to her. If he could…if only he could, he told himself fiercely, he would take it for her. All of it.

"It…never goes away, not really." He gave a weak laugh; "I still get it, sometimes. But very rarely. Bad pains along with bad dreams. But it will get better. I promise you."

A look of such bleak hopelessness took over Hermione that Draco wished he had spared her the worry and not told her anything at all. He reached out to her, "Granger…"

But again, she snapped to attention and bit out angrily, "Ok, so take me to the infirmary. I don't want to stay here with _you_, of all people."

Draco knew that she was only lashing out because she was afraid, upset, and still grieving; but he could not help the sharp tug of hurt he felt at her rejection. Hurt became frustration and irritation, and so he retorted in turn, "There _is_ no room in the infirmary. Granger, maybe you've been sleeping too much to know of recent events, but there are people in there with far worse injuries than yourself."

He cocked his head and said mockingly, "Let me enlighten you then. In bed number one lies mine dear disowned cousin Nymphadora Tonks. She is right now laid out on her bed, unable to move. She is conscious and well, but she has also not looked into a mirror since the battle. Otherwise she would not be quite so cheerful as she tries to be, seeing as the entire right side of her body and face is covered in blistering burns. Now that, is something even a metamorphagus cannot camouflage."

"In bed two then lies Padma Patil. Now, we do not really know what has happened to Padma since she had not been at the Parkinson Mansion. However, she has been inconsolable since she discovered her twin had died. Mind, she did not know because we told her. She knew because she felt it. She felt her twin dying. Really fascinating, isn't Granger? We never knew that magical twins could be twined together as entirely as this."

He was growing more and more agitated. "Oh, you might be wondering about Fred then, what with George dead and all. Well, we might have to wait a while to find out if he's felt the same effects as Padma, given that he's been comatose since getting hit by a really nasty, unknown curse from Goyle Senior. Imagine, the ignominy of getting knocked out by that oaf. I would want to be unconscious too if that ever happened to me! I would be so embarrassed."

He could see that Hermione was revolted by what he was saying, and how he was saying it. But he could not stop himself. Something made him go on. All the stress and fear he was feeling in the last few days made him want to scream out loud.

"On to bed four eh? Well, in that bed lies none other than Dean Thomas, your everyman Gryffindor. Somehow he's managed to get one of his legs sawed off. I don't really know how he managed that, I don't really care either. On beds five to nine lie a couple of anonymous Ravenclaws. I never managed to know their names you know, since, ha, who cares about Ravenclaws really?"

He was frenzied and out of control, now almost shouting in Hermione's face, "Okay now on beds ten and eleven are the Creevy brothers! Colin's blind now, you know, so I'd wager that there's to be no more photo taking for the lad. Not that I mind since that bloody camera was always in my face. Dennis? Well Dennis' recovering from a bout of continuous Crucios from my favorite aunt Bellatrix. Nasty things, aren't they?"

He continued desperately, eyes straining at the sockets, and while Hermione was disgusted, sickened, and horrified at his words, she saw that he too seemed to be trying to reach out to someone, that he too seemed to be screaming out for help, screaming to be saved from this never ending horror and torture.

"And finally…for the grand reveal of bed twelve…tada! Ginny Weasley! Otherwise known as the She-Weasel, or the Weaselette. But you know about the Weaslette already, don't you? I've told you earlier? Oh but have I told you that she wants to join him, that she's screaming for us to let her go so she can go join her beloved Dark Master? That she spits on Harry's name? That her mother sits next to her bed everyday and cries like a banshee? Which is one more reason why you really shouldn't be staying at the infirmary. The racket is there terrible."

"How could you?" gasped Hermione. "She has just lost two sons, and maybe even a daughter. And Fred is in a coma. How could you be so insensitive?"

"Ha!" shouted Draco, hysterical. "Ha! So what? So what if she's lost two sons and maybe a daughter! I almost lost…" He paused; breathing heavily, grey orbs staring holes into her brown ones till she had to look away. "I almost lost…my leg."

"What!" exploded Hermione. "You're comparing your leg with two sons and a daughter!" She seethed, "You foul, uncaring, useless excuse for a person. You're not even worth a single hair on Ron's head."

Immediately after saying this Hermione regretted her words tremendously. The look on Draco's face was enough to make her want to apologize frantically, to take back all of her words. Draco took a step back, his face contorting in hurt and pain. Then he smiled a bitter smile, and said smoothly, "You'll change your mind soon enough."

His arrogant drawl was enough to make her burst out, "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you!"

With that, she stormed off into their shared room and slammed the door.

She could not save him. She could not even save herself.

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	5. Unseeing Eyes

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews guys! It really makes my day :)

Chapter 5

Malfoy was long gone by the time she awoke the next morning. She did not even hear him leave. Like the day before, his bed and side of the room was once again made up to its pristine state. Rubbing her eyes blearily, she caught side of a bottle and a note on her side table. Picking the note up, she saw the message:

_Drink up, Granger. _

_There's a good girl. _

She narrowed her eyes at the bottle of Pain-free potion irately before taking it and tipping the whole of it into her mouth. To her surprise, it actually tasted…pleasant. Like chocolate syrup mixed with mint. She wondered who made the potions now that Snape was gone.

Sliding down her bed, she walked out of the dungeons, wandering around the castle with no aim in mind. That soon proved to be a mistake, however, as every single part of the castle somehow reminded her of Harry and Ron.

_Those were the classrooms where Harry had Malfoy had gotten into another one of their duels, causing a spell to hit her and making her two front teeth grow tremendously. _

_Those were the halls they had sauntered through, the three of them chuckling and laughing at the day's events. _

_That was the girl's toilet where Harry and Ron had saved her from the troll._

_That was the corner where she and Ron had stolen behind for a quick snog before classes began._

_The Room of Requirement where they held their DA meetings._

_The entrance to the kitchens she had forced out of Fred and George, where she had dragged Harry along to intimidate the House Elves with her knitted caps._

_The library where they had carried out endless research sessions._

_The classroom where she and Harry had practiced his 'Accio' charm for the Triwizard's Tournament. _

She suddenly realized that she had ended up at the entrance of the infirmary, another spot of broken bones and oddly fond memories. Biting her lip, she came to a decision and walked tentatively in.

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The infirmary was silent and still, the only sounds being the intermittent snoring of the occupants and the rustling of the blankets. She soon saw to her dismay that Malfoy had been right. The occupants of the infirmary were in a bad way, each and every one of them. She winced as the saw the angry burns on Tonk's features, and widened her eyes in shock as she saw that Dean Thomas's entire leg had indeed been sawed off, blood still soaking his bandages for some reason. Her footsteps made clipped noises on the linoleum floor, and as she reached the end of the long room she heard a weird sort of muttering. Walking closer nervously, afraid of what she'd find, she soon caught sight of Ginny, squirming against invisible bindings holding her to the bed. She gasped at the state Ginny was in. Her face and arms were clawed with scratch marks and bruises, her skin was pale, dotted with droplets of sweat and her lips were a strange purple colour. Like the colour of a bruise, thought Hermione. But worse of all were her eyes. She realized with a jolt that they were almost identical to those of Harry when…when he was dead. There was nothing of Ginny in them. She could now hear her mutterings more clearly.

"Enemies of the Heir beware! Ha ha, ha ha ha. Mudbloods will be next to go. Mudbloods…mudbloods are filthy scum…ha ha ha…Harry…sweet stupid Harry…we must kill all mudbloods, let me kill them! Let me kill them! Let me skewer them like a sausage, yes, yes. Lovely, dirty, red blood, spurting out, spraying all over, yes, how lovely…ha ha...let me go to my dark lord…I need my dark lord!

The last few sentences were said with such yearning that Hermione was disgusted and horrified. Swallowing her bile, she called out, "Ginny? It's Hermione. You remember? We're best friends."

Ginny's head shot towards her with such speed that Hermione was startled. She was reminded of a snake, one that was ready and willing to strike.

"Mudblood!" shrieked Ginny. "Dirty, filthy mudblood! You deserve to die! You soil our ground!"

"No…" Hermione sputtered. "No…no…don't you remember me Ginny? No. Muggleborns are not filthy. You never thought that before. Remember Ginny? Remember?"

Ginny let out an eerie cackle. "Oh yes I remember you, you stupid mudblood. You believed all the while that I was your friend. You and Harry and Ron. Like I could ever be friends with someone as foul as you!"

She looked left and right furtively before snapping her head back at her and hissing, "Yes. I betrayed you all! I pretended to be friends with you while inside my hands itched to squeeze your neck, mudblood, to see you pop like a cherry seed popping out of its flesh! Oh and Harry, he was such a sweet boy, wasn't he? He believed me! He believed his sweet, kind, Ginny." she said this in a lilting singsong. "I wished I'd seen the look on his face when he saw I had betrayed him. When I performed the greatest deed I could for my master!" she laughed gleefully. "Stupid mudblood bitch. I wish I were free of these bindings! Then I would kill you right now! Right where you stand!"

Ginny squirmed against her bonds with a new ferocity, causing Hermione to back away warily.

"You cannot escape forever!" Ginny shouted, straining at the bonds, "He will come for you. My master will come. He will come for you all! Ha ha ha! Yes he will! The school will be littered with dead bodies! Like Harry and Ron, yes! Ha ha!"

Hermione ran out of the infirmary, the sound of Ginny's spine chilling cackling echoing in the room after her.

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After what seemed like an age, Hermione finally caught sight of the doors to the Great Hall and walked in unsteadily. Though she had been warned by Malfoy, the reality of what had happened to Ginny had still shaken her. She truly was gone. Hermione thought desolately. She might as well now be added to the death toll. Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, she reached out for a roll, and gave a slight smile when she saw Neville come to join her. Her smile soon gave way to a worried look however, when she saw his troubled and upset expression.

"Hermione…something's happened…they've attacked St. Mungo's!"

"What?" cried Hermione, "Who?"

"The Death Eaters. They've…" his expression turned bleak, and he whispered fearfully, "I don't know what's happened to my mum and dad."

"Oh no Neville…" Her heart went out to him.

"It was just this morning and, well, Moody led the charge of Aurors defending St. Mungo's. The Death Eaters have been repelled, but no one knows how many were hurt…or worse." He swallowed nervously. "They say that even Moody was quite badly injured."

He looked to her imploringly. "What should we do, Hermione?"

She tensed at his words. She gradually become conscious of the fact that several pairs of eyes at the table were looking to her as well, all seeming to want her to make some kind of decision; looking to her as though she were the leader, the one to save them all.

"N…Neville…" she stuttered, "What do you mean, what should we do? I can't…"

"But you're the only one left Hermione!" Neville burst out. The other pairs of eyes shot worried glances at her. What…but she couldn't…she could not…not…she could not beat him, she thought wildly. She would lead them all to their deaths! Like Harry and Ron…lifeless eyes and dead bodies. Every single one of them, blank unseeing eyes…no…NO, she would not lead them to their deaths. She stood up abruptly, chair scraping the floor. "I'm…I'm sorry but I can't…"

For the second time that day Hermione ran as if fleeing for her very life.

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People soon stopped asking Hermione Granger for advice. She had none to give them. They stopped looking to her for a leader, and the blank stare she gave them all but frightened them away. Hermione was just so…tired. It was so much easier to forget it all, to withdraw into the shell of her body. She could not help them, she tried to reason to herself logically, and so she should just stay out of their way.

And so Hermione Granger went about her own business, as if there was no one else in her world, while a looming darkness approached Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy searched for the girl who was not there.

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	6. Don't Let Go

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Chapter 6

The pain came unexpectedly. Hermione had withdrawn so effectively within herself that she did not even realize that the Pain-free potion was no longer being given to her after the prescribed first week. The pain was…exactly like when Voldemort had first cursed her. It coursed through her body, throbbing in sync with the beating of her heart, sending wave after wave of torture through her. She felt as though she were being burned from the inside. She felt the pain all the way down to her marrow. To her bones. She had to keep from crying out, to keep from screaming like a maniac. She had to hold herself in to prevent her body, now an alien object, from shaking uncontrollably.

For a single moment, she would have given anything to make it stop. She would have groveled at the feet of Voldemort. She would have done murderous deeds, terrible deeds.

That moment passed and Hermione, horrified at her thoughts sought to endure the agony, to ride it out. Gasping, she tried to muffle her sobs by pressing her face into the pillow. She could not keep from letting out a tortured whimper, however, as a particularly excruciating ache twisted through her. She hurt so badly she almost wanted to wrench her bones out from her body, to tear them out so she need not feel this pain.

A shadow fell over her bed. Turning around, she looked up to see Malfoy's shining fearful grey eyes staring at her. Slowly, he reached out to hold her hand. She shot out hers and gripped his as hard as she could.

"Don't let go Draco. Don't let go of me." whispered Hermione.

"Never." He knelt by her side the entire night.

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Author's Note:

This is a really short chapter. I just wanted to get it out quickly because now that school has started again, I won't be able to post as often.

Till then…


	7. Prophecy

Disclaimer: I am tired of saying this. Not mine! The characters of the Harry Potter books belong to Jk Rowling.

Chapter 7

He did this for her, night after night. Without ever saying anything, or asking anything of her. No questions were needed. His firm grip on her hand helped to stabilize her, ground her to this world. He did not make the pain any less, but he made it bearable.

In the mornings they continued like they always had. He would be up and away on mysterious duties and missions before she even cracked open an eyelid, and she would continue on her normal routine of Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and staring off into space. She became aware of…mutterings throughout the castle. Whispers of invasions, of attacks on the Ministry, Diagon Alley, and how they would soon come for Hogwarts. But before this information could trickle into her mind, before they could cause her famous Gryffindor bravery and fire to emerge, she would brush them off as if one would brush off errant cobwebs. The whispers were inconsequential, she would tell herself, as memories of Harry and Ron once again invaded her mind. None of her business.

She did not really care about anything. She was, however, curious about Draco. Why did he do this for her? Where was he whenever she woke up in the morning? How did he get by with hardly any sleep? Why was he even on their side? Malfoys were known for always choosing the winning side. Why was he on theirs then, when they were clearly losing?

It was on one of these quiet nights, when they were hand in hand, lying side by side on her bed, and when the pain had receded for a moment, that she asked him, "Why did you join us?"

He jolted awake from his drowsy half-sleep. "What?"

She repeated clearly and succinctly, as if one would to a child, "Why did you join our side?"

He brushed his fingers through his silky hair again. She recognized this gesture as one he made whenever he was tired or stressed. "Well…" he began slowly, "Do you remember what happened after fifth year? After my father was put into Azkaban?"

She blushed a little when she remembered her hand in that. "Yes."

"Voldemort was not happy. He tortured me, and then killed my mother."

The simplicity of what he said belied the simmering emotion she could see behind his eyes. She stared, fascinated as they turned hard as she watched. He was such an emotive person when he wanted to be.

"He shouldn't have done that." He gave a slight sneer, "He made an enemy for life, and a Malfoy is a formidable enemy."

"But…weren't you afraid? Of him?"

He scoffed. "Of course I was afraid. I was a bloody coward. There were a lot of times when I almost pissed in my pants in front of him. But I had to learn to wipe away that fear. Dumbledore, that old coot, actually helped, you know. And Snape."

He gave her a small smile, "I am still afraid though. But it's natural. I mean, you have to be a fool not to be afraid."

She whispered in the dark, face turned from his, "I am always afraid."

"Of what?" His hand gripped hers harder.

"I can't…I could not beat him. Draco, I could not even touch him! How…?" She took a deep breath, then continued fearfully, "Harry is gone, Draco. How do we defeat him now?"

"What do you mean how? We fight as always, that's how!"

"But the prophecy…the prophecy said that Harry was the one with the power to defeat him." argued Hermione.

He gave a great shout, startling her, "Oh sod prophecies! Prophecies are just vague sayings that could go either way. Look at the Delphi Oracle in Greece! It never actually gave a straight answer you know. And don't tell me you actually believe whatever that Trelawney woman spouts?"

"But it has come true!" Hermione retorted. "I mean, Voldemort did mark Harry, and look, he's killed him too, so it has come true. None can live while the other stays."

"Look, Hermione, prophecies are not set in stone. Voldemort did change what might have been himself when he chose to go after Potter and not Longbottom. And though it does say that Potter is the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, it does not say that there aren't others who can defeat him too!" He gave a chuckle, "I mean, for all we know, Longbottom has the power to thrash the old bastard."

Draco's words made Hermione think of the situation in a whole new light. She almost started to have new hope when the vision of Voldemort's red malignant eyes and Harry's dead green ones came into her mind again. At the same time, pain shot through her bones, making her grit her teeth.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the images from her brain, trying to bear the pain. No, she thought, desolate. Draco is wrong. There is no hope.

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There was a noticeable change in the usual events the next morning. For one, Draco's bed was messy and unmade, and she could hear the sounds of people talking just outside her room, in the Slytherin common room.

She got up and crept closer to the door, looking out from behind it.

She was surprised to see the various younger members of the order ranged around Draco, discussing what seemed to be recent events. There was Neville, Lavender, Dean, who was supporting himself with a crutch, Zacharias Smith, Padma, who looked shaken but well, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Lee Jordan, and various others whom she recognized to have been members of the DA.

Suddenly, Zacharias gave a loud sigh and said, "What are we supposed to do now? The Ministry is in a mess after the strike, there is no organization there at all, the Death Eaters have been attacking more and more muggle-borns, and our spies in the lower ranks of You-Know-Who say that there will be an attack on Hogwarts, but are not sure when."

"Yes," said Angelina fervently, "we need a plan of attack…or defense."

"What do you think, Malfoy?" asked Katie.

Then came a bout of anxious whisperings and the sounds of Draco going, "Slow down, slow down, let's all keep calm!" They quieted instantly. She was slightly astonished to note that they seemed to regard him almost as their leader.

"What say you Longbottom?" asked Draco is a surprisingly civil tone.

"I don't know. The centaurs I asked want nothing to do with us. I have told them about the threat of You-Know-Who but they think they can isolate themselves and stave off whatever attacks from the Death Eaters. Hagrid has owled me that he is making some progress with the Giants, though not to expect anything from them as yet. But it seems that they are at least not on You-Know-Who's side. The goblins are definitely on ours, but about half of the greedy buggers have up and left for Switzerland. We have the rest of them guarding Diagon Alley from future invasions."

"Like Zacharias has said, the Ministry and the aurors are in a mess. We can count on aurors like Shacklebolt, and the rest of Moody's team to come to our defense, but I'm not sure what the rest are even doing. A lot of them want to rebuild the Ministry, plus the Minister wants them surrounding him as much as possible because he fears another attack. He thinks the priority should be the Ministry and not Hogwarts."

She heard someone snort "Selfish git", most likely Angelina, before Neville continued gloomily, "We could really use the old Hermione in a time like this. She would've known what to do"

There was a round of agreement following that statement before Lavender spoke up scathingly, "That one! Why, she does nothing but spend all day eating up our valuable resources and staring into space!"

Hermione cringed as another round of agreement followed that statement, with Zacharias Smith chipping in, "Hear, hear!"

"She has been unwell, Lavender." Malfoy spoke up, and Hermione started to hear him defend her.

"So has everyone else here! I mean, even Dean has gotten up from the infirmary to help us! Why not her? She's walking and talking right? She could have been helping us but she just doesn't want to! That stupid bitch is nothing but a waste of space, a bloody albatross of a burden we have to bear!"

She could see Draco visibly stiffen, and then he bit out, "You have no right to talk about her like that."

"I have every right to talk about her however I want!" yelled Lavender, "I mean, from day one she has been expecting privileges, just because she's best friends with Harry! Remember that shower incident, when she wanted more than her fair share? Why I never…"

"Shut up Brown!" Draco roared, and his authority was such that everyone, even Lavender shut up at that moment. He looked around at them like a King looking at his subjects, "No one talks about her like that. No one bothers her, and no one questions what she's doing. Understand? Now get out." Everyone else nodded, in Lavender's case, fearfully, and they trooped out.

She walked into the common room then, Draco looking shocked that she might have been there the entire time, and asked, "Why did you do that? Why did you defend me Draco?"

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Author's Note: Okay, so I said I wouldn't be able to update as often but I lied. I apologise to my Russian tutors for not doing my homework!


	8. I Look Out For Her Too

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Some quotes were taken from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (the scene reminiscing 3rd year).

Chapter 8

_She walked into the common room then, Draco looking shocked that she might have been there the entire time, and asked, "Why did you do that? Why did you defend me Draco?" _

Gazing into the fireplace, he said with a forced casualness, "It's nothing to do with you. That Lavender was getting on my nerves."

"Liar."

She could see something flicker in his eyes, before he schooled his expression into one of neutrality once more, "No I'm not. I am their leader, and I was losing my authority. I had to get it back. Can you imagine a leadership where one's intentions are constantly questioned? And you must admit, she is a big pain in the arse."

She looked up at him resolutely, and asked again, "Then why do you help me every night? Why do you stay with me, hold my hand?"

She could see him begin to tense, and he ground out, "Like I said. I am the leader here. I have a duty to help heal you."

"I don't believe you," she retorted. "Go hold the hand of George then if you want to be a bleeding saint!"

She did not know why she pressed him so, when it was so clear that he wanted to avoid the question so badly.

She continued on doggedly, "Why did you save me then? Why was I kept at your room?"

He gave a frustrated sigh and growled, "This is none of your business! I don't have to account myself to you!"

She rounded on him, "Oh yes it is my business! It involves me! It is every bit my business!"

He seemed edgy, nervous, and oddly, frightened all at the same time, "Just leave it alone, okay Granger? You don't want to know!"

"No I won't!" She yelled. "Why did you save me Malfoy!" and then, without even realizing, she slipped out, "Why did you give me your shower?"

He spoke without thinking, "Because I said I'd look out for you." Realizing what he had just revealed, he turned abruptly and walked out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

And just like that, it all clicked together for Hermione. She realized, with a sudden clarity the answer to all her questions.

_In 3rd year, when her mountainous workload and stressful research for Buckbeak's case had made her a taut string ready and wanting to snap at any time; when she had just endured a torturous period of being ignored and hated by both Harry and Ron; when all she wanted to do was scream and yell and cry all at once._

_She had just found out from Hagrid that Buckbeak had lost the case when she heard the derisive drawl of Malfoy who was gloating, "Have you ever seen anything quite so pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!" She had been so furious, so enraged, and so livid. She thought that she had never hated anyone so much in her entire life. She had rushed at him and slapped him with all the strength she could muster. _

_He had not reacted, nor did he retaliate. He had merely looked at her with a strange expression, as if seeing her for the very first time. Muttering to Crabbe and Goyle, he turned and left. _

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_In 4th year, after the incident at the Quidditch World Cup Finals in the Summer, when he had oddly warned her about the Death Eaters; when all she understood about the warning was his reminder that she was a mudblood, an equal target for people like him and not welcome or accepted in Wizarding society._

_It was a beautiful spring day, and she was walking out of the Great Hall, in the crush of all the other students streaming out with her, when she suddenly felt as though she were rooted to the spot and unable to move. She surged forward again experimentally, grimacing as she was still somehow stuck, when she heard a shout of laughter behind her. She turned around, and there was Malfoy, holding on to the large knapsack that she carried on her shoulders. His eyes danced amusedly, as she rolled her eyes and shot at him sarcastically, "Oh, how clever." He let go and clapped the backs of his cronies, his laughter echoing across the halls as she walked towards the library. _

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_In 5th year, when all was still normal, when the golden trio were still intact and all they cared about was how to stop the evil git Malfoy and his "Weasley is Our King" chants. She was in Arithmancy class waiting for the Professor to begin the lesson. _

"_Granger," Malfoy whispered. Hermione had not heard him and continued going over her notes with her usual single-minded intensity. _

"_Hey…did you do the reading about the differentials? I thought it was pretty difficult. What do you think?" She looked up finally, stared at him, figured he could not be talking to her in such a civilized manner and that his question was probably aimed at Blaise Zabini sitting on the other side of her, and looked down at her notes again. _

_Malfoy tensed, whispering again, "Hey did you hear me?" She looked up at him again, staring incomprehensibly, not saying a word. He gazed at her intently, as if expecting something from her. Finally, he hissed, obviously unhappy, "Fine, whatever, forget it Mudblood." She had not understood anything else about the situation except the word 'mudblood', and so she shot him a look of pure hate, not seeing the flash of distress on his finely schooled features as he turned around in the chair to face the front._

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_Seventh year, when all had gone to the dogs, and when the war brimming outside had forced all Hogwarts students who had not already joined the dark lord to band together and form a truce between the houses._

_She was walking quietly and a bit awkwardly in the snow alongside Draco Malfoy, who was headed in the same direction as she. He kept stealing glances at her, as if working up the courage to do something. She stared suspiciously out the corner of her eye, as while he was for sure on the good side, there was still no love lost between the ferret and the golden trio. "Granger," he drawled, unconvincingly trying to sound casual, "wouldn't it be funny if the two of us started to hold hands while we walked? Nobody would believe it." He offered his arm to her while still gazing at her with a goofy grin on his face. She had looked at him incredulously, utterly shocked and not knowing what to say. Finally, she said, "Um, well I don't think so Malfoy…" and had walked ahead on her own, deciding, as she pushed open the door into the castle, to put out of her head altogether his strange gesture back there in the cold tundra. _

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_Graduation, when the release of the house elves by Dumbledore and their increasing lack of resources meant that some of the former prefects had to help out serving the food to the graduating seniors at the graduation lunch. The fare was simple, as was the ceremony, but Dumbledore had been adamant that even the War would not stop him from allowing the seventh years this special day._

_She was standing with a row of other prefects at one of the long benches, ladling out the food in the tray in front of her to the queuing students. She had looked up from her duty only to find Malfoy fixing his eyes on her. "So, Granger, this is graduation huh? Looks more like refugees getting served rations." _

_She had rolled her eyes, defending Dumbledore and the measures he had to take, "Well at least we are getting a graduation ceremony right? Dumbledore has done the best he can, with what little resources we have now." She then noticed that he had cocked his head while she was talking, staring at her mouth. _

"_What?" She had asked self-consciously. "What is it?" Then he had reached out to her face, even as she leaned back away from his touch. He put his hand down abruptly. "Here, have Weasel get it for you. You have a spot of rice at the side of your mouth." He walked away as Ron turned and absent-mindedly brushed the offending piece of food away. _

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_A year after graduation, when all the students were still camped in Hogwarts, planning their moves and fighting the evil forces of Voldemort. _

_She and he were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for the arrival of the others to start planning their mission. Theirs was a comfortable silence, as working together several times in the past had strengthened her trust in him and diffused whatever hatred she once held for him. They were still not friends though, and so she started slightly when he began to talk to her, "So…Granger. How come I don't see you at the weekly parties anymore?" He was referring to the parties Dumbledore had implemented for everyone at the Great Hall once a week, citing the need for students to 'relax once in a while and forget about the madness and insanity that was the War. Also, socializing never hurt (insert eye twinkle here).' _

"_Oh, well…sometimes I go. But sometimes I like to spend the night when everyone else is away to read in quiet in the common room."_

_He had looked at her disbelievingly, "Granger, don't tell me you were studying. We have graduated you know. Dumbledore has said that those nights are for relaxation so you really should also stop any researching you were doing for another time." _

"_I know Malfoy. Well, I'm not reading textbooks if that's what you're asking. I've been reading…fiction and philosophy. Fantasy books, mostly, Tolkien amongst some of them. Also Durkheim, Kant, and deBeauvoir. I find it rather stimulating and relaxing at the same time." Her tone had gotten slightly bright at the mention of her favourite books._

"_So you like the quiet, huh? And reading." Malfoy said softly, almost to himself, as if he were storing this information away for later use. _

_They had not seen Harry melt away from the shadows to stand in front of them, eyes hard and voice stern. "What are you doing Malfoy?"_

_Draco had stood up, saying a bit too defensively, "I'm not doing anything."_

"_Yes you were." Harry had said, brusquely. "You'd better stop whatever you think you're doing. I look out for her you know!" _

_And Draco had stepped forward, till he was eye to eye with Harry, standing not a hair's breadth away. "I look out for her too." Then he walked away and left the room, never coming back for their meeting._


	9. We go now

Disclaimer: You know the drill, this all belongs to JK Rowling.

Chapter 9

At the time, Hermione had put that incident down as some sort of weird male posturing, as the thought of Malfoy wanting to look out for her had seemed laughable. But now, when placed in light of recent events, she finally realized what all his gestures meant.

She sat on her bed, thinking. If there was one thing Hermione Granger did well, it was to think.

Perhaps she thought too much.

She couldn't get her head around the fact that, of all the unexpected, crazy, weird and magical things to happen in her world, it was the fact that Draco Malfoy, muggle hater and ferret extraordinaire liked her. And not only liked her, but liked her _a lot_, for a long time. How was that even possible? And why hadn't she seen it earlier?

She had never been very good with boys. Boys as friends, yes, but not _boyfriends_. Sure there was Viktor and Ron, but she had never really been one of those girls who could summon the attention of boys; who sought it out, and succeeded, like Lavender, or Pavarti. Viktor and Ron had noticed her and appreciated her (though Ron did take a while) in spite of these…well…deficiencies in her inability to be a girl. She could never really be a girl and yet still be comfortable around boys, and it was for that reason that Harry and Ron, along with all the boys in Hogwarts had seen her as kind of a non-female. Not male, but not a girl either.

And then there was Malfoy. And despite the fact that he had insulted her and made life difficult for her for at least five years, despite the fact that he was a narrow-minded bigot and seemed to hate her for no reason other than that she was born, despite all of this, one part of her was oddly, and impossibly excited. She felt like a bubble just wanting and yearning to burst. She felt special, and grateful that somewhere out there, there was someone who thought about her, who genuinely cared. Something had…lifted, somehow. Something that was there since the deaths of Harry and Ron. She felt infinitely lighter, as if there was champagne in her blood. She could run forever if she had to. Almost wanted to in fact. Up mountains and past streams; to run and shriek and feel the wind against her skin. She really could not stop smiling.

And then another part of her felt horribly guilty. Another part of her that hissed at her to stop her foolish grinning, another part that whispered, _but how about Ron? _

She squared her jaw. Ron was dead.

_And you're happy about it, aren't you? Forgot about him pretty quickly, didn't you?_

No! No of course not!

_But then…didn't you already have feelings for Draco, long before Ron died? Remember the shower? Your thoughts inside the shower? Isn't it convenient that Ron is now dead, leaving you free with Draco? _

No. No, that's not true. I loved him. I loved him so much. I still do.

_Then you know what to do, don't you?_

She stared up at the stone ceiling of her room till she drifted off to sleep.

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Her eyes immediately sought his bed the moment they opened. He was not there. It did not look like he had even slept in his bed last night.

That's…that's good. She thought faintly. Less awkward that way.

She found her way to the Great Hall, and settled in for some pumpkin juice and hot toast. Other students and members of the Order were chattering obliviously around her, and she felt a slight shock at the sight of Malfoy eating breakfast on his own at the Slytherin table. His blond hair covered his face, and he studiously ignored the sounds around him, concentrating a bit too much on his buttered scone. He looked so alone.

After the shock had worn off, Hermione reflected that it really was silly, this adherence to the house tables, even when any vestige of the houses no longer existed. He was their leader, had saved them all from an attack on Hogwarts, and yet, no one was willing to even have breakfast with him! She was about to move towards him, ignoring the voice in her head censuring her for her traitorous feelings, when the doors to the hall opened with a loud bang.

It was Hannah Abbot. She had been on Tower Lookout duty this morning. Her face was white and she was panting from the exertion of her obviously frenzied dash to the hall. All eyes were on her, and yet she did not say a thing. And then…

"De…Dementors! Dementors! They're coming! From the forbidden forest!"

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The Great Hall erupted in shouts of fear, confusion and panic. Benches were scraped back and goblets knocked over in everyone's haste to get up, get ready, to run.

Hermione sat rooted to the spot, oddly calm and collected.

They're coming. They're coming for us. Finally, they're here, as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and as Ginny had promised. She thought faintly, as if she were far away and observing the ensuing scene all around her clinically, detachedly.

That's it then. This is it, this is the end. What a pity, she thought, that she had only found out about Draco's love yesterday. What a waste. They were all going to die. She only hoped that it was not too horribly. Closing her eyes and barely trembling, she prepared herself for the inevitable, when she heard a strong voice give a great shout.

"Stop! Everyone stop panicking and running around like little insects! This is not the way to defeat Voldemort!"

The hall went silent at the use of the Dark Lord's name.

Draco Malfoy had climbed onto a table, surveying his troops.

"Now, they will take a while to breach the wards, but these are Dementors, so I am pretty sure they will succeed. So…Longbottom! Patil! Johnson! Bell! Smith! Bones! Chang! Bill and Charlie Weasley! Corner! Macmillan! Lovegood! All of you follow me, we will be the first line of defense for Hogwarts, aren't you all so honoured?" He finished sarcastically, giving a slight sneer.

Hermione was amazed that he could still sneer at a time like this.

"Professor Sinistra," he continued, looking at her, "Could you please lead the second line? Choose as many students as you want."

Sinistra have a terse nod.

"Professor Flitwick, could I bother you to floo the Ministry, get help from the aurors, we're going to need it." said Draco grimly.

Flitwick immediately turned and ran out of the hall to do Draco's bidding.

"Pomfrey, take charge of the infirmary, kill anyone who tries to go through."

Pomfrey saluted savagely, surprising Hermione with her fire and respect for Draco.

"The rest of you, sit tight. We may need you later. If anything goes wrong, remember the escape routes we have practiced."

His eyes gleamed strangely. "We go now."

He trooped out with the chosen first line, leaving the Great Hall in a buzz of activity as the rest of the students and the Order busied themselves with getting ready for the battle ahead.

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	10. Patronus

Disclaimer: Just bringing them out for a walk, honest!

Chapter 10

The walls vibrated with the screams of the Dementors. Hermione winced every time she heard the screeching sounds as the Dementors tried to break the wards. Everyone was tense and nervous, and they did not know when, or where the Dementors would finally break through. Another loud thud was heard and Hermione clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white. This reminded her of a bomb shelter. Did the residents of London during the Second World War feel like this? This strange, helpless feeling. Just waiting and waiting for certain doom, for that happy accident where you were unlucky enough to have that bomb drop on your head. After a few more minutes, there was a silence as deep as the ocean.

The occupants of the Great Hall felt rather than saw or heard the Dementors break through. Almost immediately they sensed a slimy chill crawl from the soles of their feet to the hairs of their neck. It was as cold as winter, and Hermione could even see icicles starting to form in her pumpkin juice. But this cold was not the clean, fresh, cold of the seasons. This cold did not invigorate you; it drowned you.

As she fell under the Dementors' spell Hermione could feel herself sinking more and more into the depths of herself. Every happy thought was slowly but surely being sucked out, eaten and digested. She was left with nothing but despair. Nothing but grief and hopelessness.

The other occupants of the hall were clearly feeling the same effects as she did. Moans and groans could be heard around the room, as students slipped off the benches and tumbled to the floors, some clutching at their heads and others holding their stomachs in pain.

All of a sudden, Hermione heard a yell outside the doors. That voice…somewhere inside the nauseating chill that held her captive, Hermione began to remember.

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She remembered a pale haired boy with a perpetually angry scowl on his face.

She remembered his hatred, his anger, and yet, his wit, intelligence, caring and flippant valor.

She remembered an offered hand, a warm body beside hers, comforting and healing her.

She remembered nervous smiles and intense looks, willing her to see him, to look at him as he really was.

She remembered strength, courage, and love.

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Standing up, she walked towards the doors, struggling against the sludge that had seemed to accumulate around her ankles, making it difficult for her to move. Slowly, she opened the doors, straining against the leaden weight. Slowly, she looked out. And stopped.

The first line was all but writhing on the ground, some shrieking and crying silently as the Demetors assaulted their minds. The second line was backing away, some stumbling as they tried to run from the scene. They were utterly terrified.

Only one still stood up to the onslaught. And as he stood weakly the Dementors seemed to stalk closer in pleasure. One held out its decayed fingers and Hermione heard a horrifying rattle. His eyes began to roll up in his head and he fell forward in a heap. The Dementors swarmed nearer, and it was all she could do to not scream.

Dracodracodracodracodraco! She was once again rooted to the spot, as she once was in that mansion, all those weeks ago. Soon his eyes will turn blank. Soon it will be all lost. Soon she would no longer have any reason for living. All was lost. All was gone.

And then something yelled. Yelled with all its might and all its pain, hurt, tears, blood, and hope. I WILL NOT LET HIM DIE! She took out her wand, one foot jerking in front of the other.

_Now, Hermione._ She heard someone whisper, as if from afar. _Now is the time._

She stepped forward even as everyone was moving back, moaning in terror and fear at the approaching Dementors. They glided on unseen legs, their rags billowing about them as their groans shook the foundations of her very soul. She thought of Harry, of Ron, of all the happy times at Hogwarts. She thought of the time when they had saved her from the troll in first year, when Harry won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor for the very first time, when she awoke to find Harry alive and well after their fight at the Department Of Mysteries, and of endless spring mornings spent lounging at the Great Lake, just the three of them, laughing without a care in the world. And curiously, just as she lifted her wand to cry the spell, she thought of Malfoy, giving his shower to her on the day she most needed a friend.

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The Dementors were blasted away by Hermione's powerful patronus, not even a wisp of them was seen after she had screamed her spell with all the intensity, all the trauma, and everything that she had felt and had kept bottled up in the past few days.

And even though Draco did not know whether he was alive or dead, and even though the light was fading fast from his eyes, he laughed. He laughed with joy and happiness and love and relief. Because his Hermione was back. And now, they would win.


	11. Dreams

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the great JK Rowling.

Author's Note: Using a new formatting method, the other one looked a bit weird.

Anyway, a very big thank you to all my reviewers! Your kind words really encourage me to continue writing and to try to do my best. Hope you'll like this chapter. Big hugs for everyone!

Chapter 11

He dreamed.

Amidst all his painful memories, all his disappointments, all the hurt that had damaged and wounded him, his mind had somehow picked this one special scene out for him, wrapped it up, and presented it to him with a bowtie on a platter.

He knew he was dreaming, and while this was a dream he had had many times in the past, it had not come to haunt him for some time now.

Still, he could not help but feel the latent emotion bubble up within him, could not help feeling as if all of this was happening right now, right here in this dark dank room.

00000

A voice hissed, "Your father has…disappointed me."

"My…my lord," he whimpered, frightened. For despite everyone saying that he was up to his eyeballs in dark magic, despite him corroborating what they had said lustily and arrogantly; in truth the closest he had ever gotten to dark magic was watching the fake Moody perform the Unforgivables on a spider. This was the first time he had ever met Lord Voldemort, leader of the Death Eaters, and Scourge of wizarding Britain.

"Well?" that high, cold voice continued, "What do you have to say for yourself? You Malfoys have completely ruined my plans, I should have known you were useless."

"My Lord it won't happen again! I…I promise…I'll do all I can to right my father's wrongs."

The Dark Lord's horrifying red eyes glinted, "That may be…but a little…torture never hurt anybody, do you not think so?"

Draco kept silent, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry. He was so afraid. Sweat dripped off his forehead.

"Let's see shall we?" He twirled his wand idly, "Should I torture you or…" He pointed his wand lazily to the right of Draco, "Or your pathetic excuse for a mother?"

Draco eyes snapped open and he let out a cry, "No! No! Torture me! Hurt me! Don't hurt her! Please…I'll…I'll take it all!"

His mother sobbed, cowering in front of the Dark Lord's feet. "No don't hurt my son! Draco…be good and listen to mother. You're too young for these things…too young yes. Now, be quiet is that understood? Let mummy handle this do you hear?" Narcissa was babbling, and Draco could see the Dark Lord's face twist into a scornful expression.

She crawled forward on her knees, kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, "Please, my Lord. Take me, yes, take me. Torture me, do whatever you want to me. Let my son go. He's still young, yes? He can perform many deeds for you in my husband's stead."

"Mother!" shouted Draco. "Don't do this! My lord, take me instead!" he pleaded frantically, "I am my father's heir, his responsibilities are mine now, I will take the responsibility for his failures."

The Dark Lord violently kicked Narcissa off with an angry shout. She flew into the air, landing in a dirty corner of the dungeons a few meters away, whimpering and clutching her injured arm.

"How touching," he sneered. "It is not often one sees such…devotion." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "As it is, I shall acquiesce to your request, Draco. You are Lucius's heir after all, and so…Fervefacio!"

Draco dropped and screamed in agony. Even now, even as he was dreaming, he could feel his blood boiling in exquisite pain as it did all those many years ago. The Dark Lord grinned his awful smile as Draco thrashed around like an animal, howling and pleading for release. Red, angry blisters started to form on his arms, and he clawed at his skin, wanting to do anything, anything to stop the pain; even tear out his own flesh and bleed himself dry if he had to. The sharp pain suddenly left him, leaving him throbbing and moaning at the residual after effects of the spell.

The Dark Lord let out a faint giggle, "Ah, I have missed that curse. Remind me to use it more often. What with Crucio in fashion these days, I always forget how delicious some of these other spells are."

"My Lord," gasped Draco, crawling towards him once more, "I hope I have pleased you. You are happy now, yes? My pain has pleased you? I am your willing servant my Lord, do whatever you wish! Torture however you want!"

"Your pain has…pleased me," the Dark Lord let out a satisfied sigh. "And for that, I shall forgive you for your father's sins."

"Thank you my Lord! Thank you for sparing us! We do not deserve it! I shall repay your kindness by doing your bidding well!"

"That you will, that you will my boy. Unfortunately though, punishing you does not punish Lucius in the slightest." He pointed his wand at Narcissa. "I think this will be punishment enough. Avada Kedavra" he said casually.

Green light shot out at Narcissa who gave a moan and then collapsed. Shock stopped Draco in his place. It had happened so quickly, she was killed so carelessly, nonchalantly, that he could not quite believe it had actually happened. He turned his head slightly to look at her wide-open stare and dirty smudged face.

_Mother…you did not deserve this. You were always so clean, so pretty, so kind to me. You did not deserve this, not here, not in your very own dungeons, like a rat to be put down. _

Voldemort turned to laugh gleefully with his other Death Eater subordinates. He could hear him gloat faintly in the background, "That will teach everyone, won't it? Even the Malfoys cannot escape my wrath; everyone will learn now that they do _not_ disappoint Lord Voldemort!"

Nothing seemed real anymore.

And then he turned back and realized that Voldemort still had his back to him, momentarily distracted by the mellifluous praising of Rudolphus LeStrange.

_Do it. Do it now, Draco._ He clenched his teeth, slowly but surely pulling out his wand from the inside of his by now filthy robe. Everything moved in slow motion, and still Voldemort had not yet turned around to look at him.

_Just two words, just two words, just two words…_

And it would be done.

He was trembling gently, now lifting his wand steeling himself for what he must do, what he wanted to do so badly he almost screamed out loud. Voldemort let out another bark of laughter, completely oblivious to what was unfolding behind him.

He pointed his wand at Voldemort, then flinched and put it down quickly as the Dark Lord suddenly jerked his wand to clean a spot of blood on his robes.

Something whispered. _Do it, do it now._

He lifted his wand again tentatively, and then, letting out a tortured sob, wrenched it down.

I can't! I'm too afraid! Please don't make me…

_Do it Draco! _

I can't. I can't do it!

_DO IT! DO IT NOW! DO IT NOW OR YOU WILL NEVER GET THIS CHANCE AGAIN! _

Please…mother, forgive me.

_DO IT YOU COWARD!_

I can't.

00000

He woke up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat only to see Granger snoring gently; sitting in an armchair and half slumped over on his lap.


	12. The Aftermath

Disclaimer: Not mine, never was, never shall be.

Author's Note: I've had a few comments that my chapters are short. blushes That is true. Unfortunately, the reason for this is because I usually most feel like writing when I have the most work to do. Therefore, updates are fast and chapters are short. I'm trying to make it a bit different with this chapter though, because I do know how frustrating it gets when an author updates…only to offer up crumbs. So hope this is good for you guys!

Chapter 12

He stared at her, not knowing what to do. She was breathing deeply, her head occasionally moving side to side, rubbing into the blankets (and inadvertently his legs) to find the best niche in his lap to rest on. Asleep, she looked so…peaceful, calm and gentle. Not at all like that avenging hellion he had seen briefly during the fight with the Dementors.

How…different. He did not know which he preferred better, a peaceful Hermione, or a Hermione who had such fire in her eyes.

Though…hmm…this Hermione drooled. He could feel his bare legs under the blanket becoming slightly damp.

She was still beautiful.

Before the whole incident at the Parkinson Mansion, he had not had many opportunities to examine her while she was unawares. Her bodyguards Potter and Weasley were always there, constantly looking out for her…and looking out for where he was too. Potter had probably suspected how he had felt for Hermione, and ever since that night at the Gryffindor common room, had tried all ways and means to keep Hermione out of Draco's way. The git.

Now Draco was not a bad man, but he was nevertheless a selfish one. To be honest, he had not felt one jot for the deaths of Potter and Weasley. Dumbledore, he had felt regret; for Snape there was a slight twinge in his heart that was probably sorrow, but that he liked to pretend was just premature heartburn. The two Gryffindor clowns? A petty, mean part of him that he had tried to suppress ever since his induction into the Order was even slightly happy that their deaths had given him this chance with Hermione, had allowed him to watch over her night after night while she slept, as lovely and as exquisite as fresh-fallen snow.

His legs jerked involuntarily as she mumbled in her sleep, causing her to wake up, brown lashed eyes opening and gazing at him. Her hair was sleep-mussed, and her eyes were bleary, but when she smiled gently at him he felt the last remnants of his dream finally drift away.

"Draco…" and for a moment, for just one tiny miniscule moment, Draco thought that he could see concern, love, and trust in her eyes. And just for that one moment, he decided that everything was worth it. All the hurt, tears, blood, crucio…everything that had brought him up to this one moment, was all worth it. But then that moment passed and she tried to school her features into one of business-like concern, "How are you Draco?"

He chuckled nervously, "As well as can be. I see that it is now my turn to be the patient, and yours to be the nursemaid. Thank you."

She blushed slightly, "It was the least I could do."

The Ferret and the Know-It-All had a brief moment of awkward silence as each thought furiously of humorous, meaningful, and memorable things to say. Their professors would have been so happy if only they could have been struck dumb like this more often during their school days.

"Um…"

"Well…"

Draco winced as a lance of pain shot through him as he shifted on his bed.

"What's wrong Draco?" asked Hermione worriedly.

"It's nothing," said Draco, trying to brush it off, "Just some bad dream, causing a bit of pain. It's gone now, don't worry about it."

"Was it caused by the Fervefacio?" she asked softly.

Draco gave a grim smile, "Yes. Well, sort of. It was about when…my mother was murdered."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No…well…ahh…it's so…it's so stupid! I was so stupid!" He looked at her mournfully, "I am a coward, Hermione."

She looked at him sternly, putting her hands on his shoulders, "Draco Malfoy! Don't be ridiculous! I have seen you fight Death Eaters and face Voldemort; you have protected Hogwarts from doom; heck, you were even the only one reckless enough to stand up to the Dementors the way you did! Don't tell me you are a coward!"

"But I am." He said quietly. "Do you know, I had a chance to kill him, to avenge my mother's death. His back was turned to me, and the overconfident bastard had left me my wand. But I could not even aim my wand properly at him before I gave up."

To his surprise and slight consternation, she laughed. "Oh, by Merlin Malfoy! You silly boy. You were what, fifteen years old? Did you really think that a greenhorn like you who'd probably never attempted the Unforgivables could actually inflict any kind of harm on Voldemort?"

"But…" He did not know whether to feel mollified or insulted. He grumbled petulantly, "Yes, yes, make fun of the man who's been taking care of you for more than a month."

She smiled placatingly, "You know what I mean. Don't blame yourself. In fact, you did the right thing. He probably would've killed you. Better to live to fight another day."

"Potter would've done it." He murmured bitterly.

Hermione sighed. "Draco, Harry would've been dead." Then, chuckling hollowly, she continued, "Gryffindor bravery is not always the solution to every problem."

She placed her hand over his, and the feel of her skin on his, even in such an innocent location, sent a tingly feeling up his spine. "Don't beat yourself up over this. I'm sure your mother would not have wanted to you to risk your life in that manner. I'm sure she would've wanted you to live."

He tried not to cry.

His eyes were just itchy. Probably the unwashed sheets causing his allergies to act up.

Yes, that was it.

"You always know what to say huh Granger?"

She winked cheekily, "I learn from the best."

"You know…" he stared down at his sheets, "You really were magnificent at that last battle. I mean, I've never seen anyone blast away Dementors like that."

"Honestly, I don't really even know what happened. I just…tapped into my emotions. And as you probably know, I have been suppressing these emotions for a very long time." She laughed nervously, "It was probably a very lucky fluke."

"No…" said Draco slowly, "No, I really don't think it was a fluke. You were…really awe-inspiring. Powerful."

"Oh please Malfoy!" snorted Hermione, "You speak of me as if I were the next Harry, or Dumbledore. Which I am not."

He gave her a shrewd look, "What did the others say then?"

"What others?" She in turn looked at him defiantly.

"Oh Granger stop playing around! I meant Neville, Professor Sinistra and Flitwick, Charlie Weasley, Angelina Johnson, heck, even Dean Thomas. What did they say? What exactly happened after I was knocked out by the combined prowess of a hundred Dementors? Oh and how long have I been knocked out for anyway?"

"Oh, so it's Granger now, is it?"

He resisted the urge to strangle her pretty neck. That would definitely not help his chances with her. Instead, he decided to go for the Malfoy eyebrow lift.

"Oh…all right! They have been kind of in awe of me." She admitted reluctantly. "And you've only been knocked out for a night. I've been here the entire time so you needn't worry about Madam Pomfrey purposely spiking your medicines to make you sleep."

Realization dawned upon Draco like the sun coming out from the clouds, he grinned like a Cheshire cat, "So…you've been here the entire night?"

"Well don't flatter yourself! I just didn't want to have to face the screaming hordes outside!"

"You mean the Ministry and the aurors? Our friends and professors?"

She stood, wringing her hands together, "Cornelius Fudge and his cronies are coming at any time! And they want me to handle them! Me! I mean, I don't know anything about this!"

"Hermione! Are you even listening to yourself!" said Draco exasperatedly, "You're Hermione Granger! You do know everything! You're the Know-It-All! And even if you don't, you will somehow. I've suffered losing to you grades-wise for years, I know what I'm talking about."

"But...arrghh…"

"Come on Granger," he gave a truly scintillating smile, "You know you love it. All the nagging, all the scolding, ordering people about, showing off how much you know and how everyone else around you is an idiot…"

She was speechless for a moment and he took the opportunity to herd her out the door. He paused and looked her over, feeling very oddly like a parent about to send his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time. "You all right?"

"I am all right. Finally." And she looked as if she really meant it. "But this…ooh Draco you're going to get it from me when you finally get well!"

He looked at her behind lidded eyes, murmuring "And I shall be looking forward to that Granger."

She got slightly scarlet and pushed past him out the portrait door, muttering under her breath about evil ferrets and their innuendoes.

00000

In truth, she had not told Draco the whole story of the events after the attack because she did not want him to worry. The actual casting of the Patronus though…it had just felt so right. Like the blessings of Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, McGonagall and even Snape for goodness sakes were behind her. She did not think, just reacted. Quite a first for Hermione Granger, who tended to research everything to death before coming to a decision. And to be honest, the feeling had been…glorious. As if everything were finally coming together, as if this was what she was meant to do. To fight. To win.

After that of course she had fainted dead away, causing everyone around her who was still conscious to scream and panic. She had only woken up again because Neville had stuffed the largest piece of chocolate she had ever seen into her open mouth, nearly choking her in the process. Professor Sinistra was of course absolutely livid. She vaguely remembered her screaming that if Hermione were not done in by the Dementors, then she would surely be by that ridiculous Longbottom and his blasted Honeydukes chocolate.

Death by chocolate. She smiled. Not entirely a bad way to go.

Everything after that of course was a big mess. The younger students kept looking at her with stars in their eyes and getting in her way, there were so many people needing Madam Pomfrey's attention that they had to create another makeshift Infirmary out of an abandoned classroom, and as usual no one had took notice of Draco lying forlornly on the stone floors until Hermione had screamed at some Gryffindors to go get Pomfrey while she levitated him to the Slytherin dungeons.

And now she was suddenly elected leader of them all, shoved into the responsibility of meeting the Ministry and dealing with this mess.

She proceeded to the Great Hall and gave a slight start at the number of people already assembled there.

"Miss Granger! Finally you are here! Now can we start?" Fudge gave an exasperated eye roll at Flitwick, who ignored him, giving an eye roll of his own.

"Minister, I…" she started to apologize for being late to the meeting before Fudge waved her away with a flick of his hand and cut in pompously,

"Now Miss Granger! I feel that I am being reasonable when I say that this whole situation has been a disaster!"

She arched her brow and asked, "What do you mean 'disaster'? We did destroy the Dementors, making another problem of your own making go away."

"Well…" he was slightly flustered for a moment before regaining his wind, "Well the fact that they actually penetrated your defenses prove that Hogwarts is not prepared to deal with an invasion! This castle is unsafe! Unsafe and vulnerable! I order all of you to leave at once. For Merlin's sake you lot are mere children! Time to stop playing at being little soldiers and leave the real fighting to those who are actually equipped to do it! I tell you…"

Hermione felt her blood start to boil. Figuratively of course. She had been perfectly willing to be polite and balanced about this until that idiot Fudge had started on his little tirade, not listening to everyone as usual and making the most ridiculous decisions, again without anyone's consent. He prattled on, making Hermione distinctly more and more irritated as the minutes passed. Finally, she could stand it no longer, and said loudly, "And what makes you think we'll consent to do any of that?"

"Because I am the Minister of Magic and I command you to!"

She sneered at him. "With all respect _Minister_ Fudge, that does not mean anything to us here. We will not agree, and we _will not_ leave Hogwarts!"

Fudge blustered ineffectually, astounded that a mere girl actually dared to stand up to him! The Minister of Wizarding Britain! "Wha…this is preposterous! This…this is treason!"

"I hardly think this qualifies as treason Minister. We of the Order are merely doing what we feel is the best for Britain, what we feel will be the most effective in defeating Voldemort.

Fudge flinched at the mention of his name. After a moment he straightened up and looked at her scornfully, "And do you really think that this is the best way to defeat You-Know-Who?" He gestured at the Great Hall disdainfully, "This plan did not really work out for Dumbledore or Harry Potter, now did it?"

Hermione fumed inwardly, "Hogwarts is the best place to be! Divided, we are individually vulnerable to attacks from the Death Eaters. Together as a group, we will be protected by each other. The students in here have been safe from attacks for years! Other wizards, especially muggleborns have been flocking here for refuge! In any case the Ministry is not so safe now, is it? Haven't your headquarters been attacked many times in the past, with considerable damage to its infrastructure? I still remember when it was breached in my 5th year at Hogwarts!" She glared at Fudge, all the while thanking Bill Weasley silently for giving her updates on what was going on in the War after the attack by the Dementors.

Fudge was turning redder and redder, and now resembled an over-ripe tomato. "What is going on at the Ministry is inconsequential to the situation in Hogwarts!" he barked. "The point is, you lot are leaderless, stranded, and pathetic! You think you're so great?" He walked closer to Hermione, "Oh, I know what you lot think missy. You think you're better than us, don't you? You would want to take over the Ministry, don't you? Well you've had your chance. Dumbledore had his chance! And where is he now? Six foot below the ground, that's where!"

"Minister Fudge," said Hermione coolly, "can I ask you a question? Have you ever actually met with Voldemort? Have you and your aurors been able to find him?"

She was met with stony silence.

She narrowed her eyes, "You cannot even bear to say his name."

Looking around at the students and various other Order members ranged around her, she said with obvious pride, "We may have lost ground in the battle against Voldemort, but these students are more battle-hardened then ten of your aurors combined. They have faced Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and more horrors then you or you lot could ever imagine. They have earned their place here, and they are our best bet of survival, our best bet for winning. We _will_ continue to stay here, and we _will_ give Voldemort and his Death Eaters a hell of a fight."

Fudge's mouth gaped open and close like a fish gasping for breath. "You…you can't do this!"

"Oh yes I can!" said Hermione viciously. "I can and I will."

"Oh no you won't!" He looked around wildly at his aurors. "Seize her!"

A few of the aurors moved towards Hermione hesitantly and cautiously, they had after all heard about Hermione Granger's great win over the Dementors. However, before they could do so much as to touch her person, Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward smoothly in front of her, blocking her off from the other aurors. Two or three other aurors she soon recognized as being members of the Order moved briskly towards her to stand with her as well. Fudge was stunned speechless, staring disbelievingly at his traitorous men.

Hermione stared piercingly at him, "Minister Fudge, I had hoped to join forces with the Ministry and the aurors, but I can see now that that was wishful thinking on my part. I have no choice presently but to throw you out. Rest assured though, that Hogwarts looks after its own. Magic is ingrained deeply in the very stones of this castle. Do not worry, we will be safe."

She turned to walk out the door, leaving the other Order members to deal with the raging Minister and his entourage. "Come back when you have changed your mind. But for now, get out of our way." She pushed open the large wooden doors and strode out, leaving everyone else even more in awe of her, and leaving a very amazed Neville thinking that she was becoming more and more like Draco with each passing day.

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_At night at the shower stalls._

Lavender was just minding her own business, sitting on a stool at the entrance to the shower stalls and filing her nails, getting ready for yet another long and boring night of shower duty when Hermione Granger came striding towards her like an avenging angel, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe, towel in one hand, and soaps and shampoos in the other. She looked down at the list of names on her parchment and smirked. Ah, someone trying to flout the rules again, eh? She might be the brand new heroine of the day, but she still had to follow the rules and regulations. Lavender steeled herself resolutely. She shall not pass.

"Hello Lavender, shower for one please."

"Oh, I'm sooo sorry Hermione," replied Lavender gleefully and insincerely, "but you've used up your shower ration for the week. No shower for you till the next, I'm afraid." She went back to filing her nails, purposefully ignoring Granger and laughing silently on the inside at the expression on her face.

Lavender had expected Hermione to start pleading or complaining, but what she did next was totally unexpected. Putting one hand on Lavender's shoulder and leaning in uncomfortably near, she hissed, "Lavender? Go stuff it." While Lavender was still recovering from the shock, Hermione breezed past her into the showers, slammed the doors of one of the empty stalls, and went ahead to start her shower, singing a horrible muggle tune at the top of her voice.

Inside the shower, Hermione Granger grinned. It felt good to be back.

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Author's Note: I apologize for having to do the corny 'seize her!' thing, but rest assured that it was necessary! Anyway, it does kind of give a nice ring, doesn't it? Haha.

Also this is totally out of the point but since I've finished writing this I just discovered that I lost my wallet. This is miserable.


	13. Granger, Hermione, Savior of Hogwarts

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter featured in this story all belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 13

Clad in only her bra and underwear, Hermione Granger leaned forward to peer at herself in front of the foggy mirror. She rubbed a patch of it clear and tilted back. Slowly, she lifted one hand to pinch at her cheeks.

Was her skin really that sallow?

Her hair hung in straggled wet knots; sad evidence of her lack of time nowadays to even brush a comb through it, much less wash it properly. Her frame had shrunk dangerously thin, to the point where she could see the outline of the bones in her back. Her skin was dry, her lips were cracked, and her features had lost their chubby glow. She was hard pressed to admit it but she even she had to concede that her pinched visage looked even more ferret-like than Malfoy's ever had!

Was this the face of Hogwart's savior?

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. With Draco out of commission, Hogwarts had been handed to her on a, well, somewhat tarnished silver platter. The first thing she had seen to was the sick and injured in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was holding up well, but there were so many that needed her attention that even she was swamped. Hermione had had to pick out a few Ravenclaws who were well versed in potion making to help in concocting the healing potions.

Next, she had seen to the repairs in the castle, most notably to the entrance of Hogwarts and the Gryffindor Tower. The latter was a dangerous area, and fallen beams and stones had regularly cascaded in response to any loud noises or large vibrations that were the result of spell casting. She was however particularly proud of the rebuilding of the tower, as she herself had a hand in magically bringing the stones back up, one by one, with the help of Professors Flitwick and Sinistra and Madam Hooch. Now, it was all ready to receive new occupants, save for the furniture that she had yet to conjure up. Unfortunately, this new Gryffindor Tower would not retain the same grandeur the old one had, as they had not the resources nor the time or energy to decorate it as prettily as its predecessor. She had, nonetheless repaired Ron's Chudley Cannons banner, placing it in an honorary position above the new fireplace, and wiping an errant tear away as she did so.

Somehow though, she was extremely reluctant to move out from the Slytherin dungeons despite having the Gryffindor Tower repaired. She had told herself and Draco that the reason for this was because she was loathe to stay in a roomful of noisy, meddling strangers, ignoring Draco's smirks all the time as she tried, and failed to even convince herself.

Draco himself was hale and healthy after one week's of forced bed rest. Madam Pomfrey had even put a compulsion charm on him to make sure he would not want to move a metre away from his bed. This was of course after she had caught him sneaking out in the day to see if he could help in the repairs (apparently he had been somewhat sorry that the Tower was destroyed. Neville Longbottom however knew better and knew Draco was only doing this to get into Hermione's good graces).

Her situation with Draco now was…well, no, she did not want to think of him here! For Merlin's sake was she not free of him even in the bathroom? Ever since he had been up and about…well, she'd think of that later.

She had also visited Ginny for the first time in weeks.

She had not wanted to. In fact, she put it off so many days that she finally began to feel disgusted with herself and her lack of the much vaunted Gryffindor bravery that she faced down her fears, and marched into the infirmary.

Most of the sick and injured had by now gotten better and had left the infirmary. Tonk's burns were fading gradually, and even she herself had joked about the smooth purple patches that covered one side of her body and face, saying that now she could change the colour of her hair to match her skin. Fred had also woken up from his coma, and was slowly but surely being rehabilitated. His attitude and fortitude had really made Hermione beam with pride. Walking slowly towards Ginny's bed, she glimpsed Molly Weasley sitting by the side of a sleeping Ginny, keeping vigil over a girl who would never come back. According to Draco and Madam Pomfrey, she had been doing that almost every night, ever since the day Ginny had fallen.

Asleep, Ginny looked infinitely peaceful and at rest. To Hermione, she resembled…Sleeping Beauty, forever awaiting her Prince Charming to come and wake her up; a Prince Charming who would now never come, forever lost to her. Mrs. Weasley was looking tenderly at her daughter, and glanced up when Hermione touched her shoulder.

"She looks so…at rest, doesn't she?" She wiped away a tear. "One part of me likes to think that she is in fact at rest. That she has already joined her Harry in the afterlife. Another part of me though can't help but hope that she might someday wake up. That one day, she would open her eyes and instead of seeing that creature in her, I would see my Ginny."

"I am so sorry Mrs. Weasley." Hermione whispered. She had been so selfish to sequester herself, while others suffered around her.

"Oh Hermione, it's not your fault. It's You-Know-Who's." Suddenly, she turned to grip Hermione's hand. "Promise me Hermione. Promise me you'll get him." Mrs. Weasley's eyes were shining so bright; with such a _fierceness _in them that Hermione dared not tell her otherwise.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. You have my word."

Hermione had no time to think on that promise though as nowadays she was preoccupied with a hundred and one duties. These included firming up the defenses of Hogwarts, researching new spells and ways that they might be able to defeat Voldemort, seeing to the day-to-day running of the castle (luckily she had very valuable help from Hagrid), planning new tactics to attack and defeat the Death Eater strongholds (which had by now even included St Ottery and Catchpole, much to her and Molly Weasley's distress), receiving reports from the aurors and spies that had come over to their side, and corresponding with the ministry, discussing, and, well, practically pleading with them of the efficacy of their plans.

This last part was Arthur Weasley's doing of course. She herself would not have anything to do with the Ministry and that idiot of a Minister if she could help it. However, Arthur was convinced that the Ministry had intelligence and resources that they could not very well ignore, if they were to win this war. Thus, she had relented and had even sent a letter of apology to that dratted man, gritting her teeth all the while and helping Arthur with the missives to the Ministry.

All in all, her duties, as well as the stress of having to keep up a cheery outlook to raise the morale of those hemmed in at Hogwarts had made her skip her meals and lose her sleep, causing Draco to nag at her daily to eat her food and to take regular breaks. If Draco were not there to remind her, Hermione thought that she would forget she was hungry altogether.

Draco and herself had additionally been involved in a secret task that only the two of them, and, Merlin help her, Trelawney knew about. It was about the contents of the prophecy about Harry and Voldemort that Trelawney had made, and Draco's words about it all those weeks ago had made her want to search for any kind of loophole within it that might help them. She and Draco had pored over their copy of the prophecy incessantly, constantly going to visit Trelawney in her perfume-drenched tower for advice and counsel. That woman of course had kept repeating that Prophecies were not understandable by mere mortals like Hermione, and that the truth of the prophecy was only known to the diviner and no one else. Draco had almost snarled at her in pure irritation when he had asked her why, since _she _was the diviner, could she not tell them what the prophecy meant? Trelawney of course had muttered some rubbish about how mortals were not meant to hear the words of gods, or something of the like. Hermione had told Draco in private later on that this meant that even she did not know what the heck she was spouting all those years ago.

The thought of Draco made her tingle down to her toes. He seemed to her to become more and more handsome every day, even as she became more gaunt and tired. He did not seem to mind though, and was constantly at her side, keeping her company, only leaving her to complete his own duties around the castle. Despite his supposed preoccupation with 'his authority' (as he had told her the night he shouted at Lavender for insulting Hermione), he had seemed…totally happy to give up all leadership to her, almost seeming like a puppy dog in the way he followed her around. One night she had even almost caught him staring at her by her bedside while she slept. She had partially opened her eyes, awoken by a slight sound on her left side only to see a silvery- blond blur streak back soundlessly towards Draco's bed. Later she had stayed awake the entire night, listening to Draco's snores while trying to convince herself that that could not have possibly been Draco.

The situation between them was…somewhat complicated to say the least. After Draco had gotten well, Hermione had analyzed her feelings and come to the decision that while she did feel _something_ towards Draco; something that was…more than friendship but not quite yet love; she needed time to truly get over Ron's death, so that if, _if_ mind, she did decide to pursue anything with Draco, she would not be so plagued with feelings of guilt and sorrow.

Of course one would say that she should have just stopped analyzing and started feeling, but this is Hermione Granger we are talking about.

Needless to say, Draco had sensed that Hermione had begun to distance herself from him, and was sometimes irritable and _always _persistent. He had somehow gotten the idea that needling and pestering her like he did in their second and third years (just without the malice and insults that had marked his treatment of her then) would be the way to woo her.

Maybe he was on to something, because he made it very, very hard for Hermione to ignore him. She kept thinking about him, about how infuriating, annoying, arrogant, exasperating, sweet, intelligent, witty, funny, tender, kind…STOP! She almost screamed to herself. This kind of thinking would only lead to madness.

Just as she was getting ready to put on the rest of her clothes, the doorknob suddenly turned and a very familiar and much loved/hated voice called out, "Hey Hermione, are you in there? I was just thinking…"

Staring at him and clad only in her underclothes she gaped at him while _he_ gaped at her, looking as if Christmas had come early and as if…well…as if he had found the most precious treasure in the world and could now die in peace. Slowly, she clenched her fists at her sides and shrieked, "DRACO MALFOY YOU GET OUT RIGHT THIS MINUTE OR, MERLIN HELP ME I WILL HEX YOUR BALLS OFF!" Forgetting that she was almost naked, she brandished her wand and chased him out, making one Draco Malfoy very _very_ happy that he had stepped in when he did.

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Author's Note: Rest assured, there will definitely be some quality DHr interaction in the next chapter. Also I hope this isn't too…happy. I had set out to write a more angsty story. Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone!


	14. Delegation

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. I'm just bringing them out for a walk.

Chapter 14

Panting slightly, he turned to face her appraisingly, "Granger, are you always practically naked when you chase others around? You could be on to something, you know. I mean, the Death Eaters will die of shock when they see you. At least, I know those old lechers MacNair and Nott will. Their wives certainly cannot hold a candle to you."

Scowling at him, Hermione remembered her state of undress and quickly conjured one of the bed sheets to a bathrobe and shrugged it on.

"Although…" and his face abruptly became one that was concerned. "Granger have you been starving yourself? Three or four of you could've fitted into Goyle for Merlin's sake! I could see the bones on your chest and back sticking out!" He gripped her shoulders and asked, "What are you doing to yourself? Answer me!"

She pushed his hands off her shoulders and shouted at him, "What I am doing to myself has nothing to do with you Malfoy! And before you get started on me, I think I really deserve to know what the hell were you doing in the bathroom!"

He looked down at his feet, slightly embarrassed, "It was an accident okay? I did not purposely set out to see you in the nuddy. What kind of person do you think I am?" he wailed.

"An evil, ferrety, peeping Tom one!" she snarled at him, holding together the folds of her bathrobe tighter around her.

He sighed exasperatedly, "It was an accident and don't you change the subject! Why are you so thin?" He grabbed her arm and pushed up the sleeve of her robe, revealing translucent skin stretched over bare bones. "You look like a bloody skeleton!"

Hermione wrenched her arm away. "You're shouting at me?" she cried disbelievingly, "Why are you the one who gets to be angry? I was the one who was spied on in the bathroom!"

"You haven't answered my question." He said quietly and somewhat menacingly. "Have you been starving yourself?"

"No." she replied mutinously.

His voice became progressively louder and louder, and just a little bit hysterical, "Yes you are! Look at yourself!" he gestured towards her body, "You said you were fine! You're supposed to be fine! What am I going to do with myself if you're not! What am I going to do – " He broke off abruptly and stared at her with a frightened look on his face, trying to hold her in place with his eyes, terrified that if he looked away she would become more and more transparent and fade away into nothing.

"I'm fine okay?" she tried to say calmly. "I've just been a bit busy…that's all."

He stopped pacing to stand in front of her, his tone clipped, "Stop showing me that mask you show to everyone else."

She spluttered, "Wha-what mask? I don't have a mask. This is me! It always has been!"

"Bollocks. Don't lie to me Hermione. Never lie to me."

She sat silently on the bed, not answering his questions. She could see him trying to hold back tears. "Why are you doing this to yourself Hermione? Why are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Calm down okay! I'm not trying to kill myself! I'm just…it's just…" To Draco, Hermione seemed to collapse inwardly onto herself. "There's just so much to do…too much to do… and so…and so I think, well, what's another skipped meal right? I'm not hungry, I'll be fine. Then it's another, and another…and another. And then I think, well, if I research this spell, there would be a good chance we could find a way break down his defenses right? So, is sleep really more important than defeating Voldemort? Well, logically speaking, no, it's not and so…"

"Hermione!" Draco knelt down to take her hand. "Are you even listening to yourself? You keep doing this and you're going to drive yourself into an early grave! No person can take going without sleep and proper food for so many days! Nothing is more important than your health, understand? Nothing!"

"But…but…I have to!" she continued brokenly, "I have to do it! No one else will and there's not much time left before he attacks again and…and I've wasted so much time already!"

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Draco's face. He said abruptly, "Are you feeling guilty? For not doing anything to help after the Parkinson Mansion?"

"How did you know?" she whispered.

He snorted, "I know guilt when I see it. Merlin knows I've felt it enough times to identify it accurately. You shouldn't feel guilty." He whispered that last part, gazing at her with something unreadable in his eyes.

"Malfoy! I practically slept away the weeks following what happened at the Mansion! Even Dean Thomas was up and walking and helping, and he has one foot left!"

"So you had a few off-days – or, well, it was actually a few off-weeks…" She glared at him and he continued quickly, "But, I mean, it was completely understandable! For crying out loud you had just lost your best friend in all the world and your…" Hermione was amused to see that he had some difficulty saying Ron's name out loud. "And your…_boyfriend_," he finally bit out, "all in one day! Anyone would've been inconsolable! Don't blame yourself, okay Hermione?

She folded herself into his arms. He smelled like spices. And to Hermione, it seemed to be the first time in weeks that she had allowed herself to rest, to crumple, and to just forget about everything else and all that she had yet to do. "I'm just so tired Draco," she sighed. "I'm just so…so tired." She looked up at him a bit resentfully, "How come _you_ never seemed this tired when you took charge of the castle? I mean," she started to get slightly worked up, "How can anyone do all this and _still_ have time for other things? Like, for example, basic nourishment and proper grooming?"

He chuckled, pinching her nose. "That, my little Hermione, is something I like to call delegation. You're not supposed to take so much upon yourself! In fact, you're supposed to share your tasks with everyone! That was something I liked about being leader," he continued dreamily, "giving orders."

She grinned, and punched him on the shoulder. "Okay then, the first thing that I'm delegating to you is to get me some enormous pancakes with honey and strawberries on them. Lots and lots of strawberries. With a side of bacon, fried eggs…oh, and a buttered scone!" She was getting giddy at the thought of so much food.

"No more masks with me, alright?" said Draco softly. She nodded.

"Let's go get some breakfast then, oh Great and Magnificent Leader!" He pulled her up to a standing position and they walked out of the dungeons in the direction of sustenance.

"Yes yes, make fun of the person who took care of you for an entire week!" she retorted.

"Oh please! I took care of you for a month! Don't tell me you're equating a week with a month full of tender loving care! You know, I don't quite think we're equal on that just yet. In fact, I say you owe me."

She rolled her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue.

"I _will_ come to collect." He winked at her and she laughed.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione reflected that really, if Harry and Ron had known that the only person she felt she could be herself with these days was Malfoy, they would bust their lungs laughing in disbelief.

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The rest of the day was spent organizing her duties and delegating those that did not need her personal attention. Therefore, she had all but pushed the responsibility of communicating with the ministry to Arthur, telling him to let her know of any progress in the discussions with the minister. _Not_ that she thought there would be any though. The job of firming up the defenses of Hogwarts she had given to Kingsley Shacklebolt and the remaining Hogwarts Professors, and she had entrusted Charlie, Bill and Angelina with the responsibility of liaising and receiving intelligence and information from the aurors and spies out in the field. She herself had continued to coordinate the movements of all of the members of the Order, and together with Draco, was also in charge of forming tactics and researching spells curses, and, of course, the prophecy.

Draco was right. She could do this.

The job of keeping everyone's spirits up however had come from quite an unlikely place.

They were at the thrice-weekly Order meetings (without the Weasleys who were visiting Ginny in the infirmary) when Lavender had brought up the subject of a dance, as a sort of celebration for the defeat of the Dementors and to make up for all the lost weekly parties ever since the demise of Dumbledore. While Lavender had been remarkably nice to her ever since the shower incident, Hermione had still thought that this dance of hers was a typical Lavender-type of useless activity.

"I highly doubt, Lavender, that this dance has any function whatsoever." Hermione had responded snidely. "We are supposed to be trying to defeat Voldemort for Merlin's sake, not plan parties!"

"Well I for one think it's a good idea."

Hermione gasped, "Loon-I mean Luna? You really think so?"

"Yes," she replied dreamily. "This will also give me a chance to examine mating behaviors of humans and compare them to those of the Crumple Horned Snorkack."

"Luna," Hermione began gently, "There is no such thing-"

"I think so too." And Hermione was shocked to see Padma Patil speak up tentatively in agreement with Lavender, "Not with Luna and her examining of human behaviors of course." She blushed, "But, well…we haven't had one for a while, and things have been pretty stressful lately. We could all use the break."

Hermione looked to Draco, hoping for some support for her case. He shrugged, "She's right you know, Hermione." She scowled at him. _Traitor!_ she thought. "All of us here –" he gave her a significant look, "have been wound up so tight and taut we could break any minute. It'll be good to give everyone some time for relaxation and a bit of fun." He gave her a teasing smile, "And you could always go back to the common room to read your books if you wanted to."

She bit her lip, not knowing how to decide. "You know…" Neville said cautiously, "This is what Dumbledore would've wanted."

That decided matters for her. Sighing loudly, she turned to Lavender and said to the positively beaming girl, "Ok, you win. We'll have a dance." A whoop went up in the room. "But!" she continued, "Lavender, Padma, Luna – since you three supported it I'm putting the organization of this dance into your hands. Do not, I repeat, **_do not_** use any more resources than are usual for a normal dinner…" she relented at the look on their faces, "Okay maybe two normal dinners." The Dance will be held this Saturday night. If everyone has nothing else to contribute, I call this meeting closed. Dismissed."

She found him later on leaning against the door of McGonagall's office where the meeting had taken place once everyone had left.

"So…" he said casually, examining his fingernails, "Will you be taking part in this dance, or are you going to hole yourself up in the dungeons reading a moldy book?"

"Well…I have to admit that their enthusiasm has gotten to me. I think I might just go after all."

Someone seemed to be playing ping-pong inside her stomach as she waited for his response.

"Good then." And he started towards the dungeons. Hermione felt disappointed somehow but did not know why.

"Coming?"

"Yes, I'm right with you."

If Hermione had been standing next to him, she would've seen the brilliant grin on Draco's face. As it was, she was lagging behind and so had no hint whatsoever of his plans for Saturday…

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Author's Note: A little bit of fluff but also a little bit of angst coming up in the next chapter..


	15. Only in Dreams

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.

Author's note: Thanks for all the great reviews everyone! Hope this lives up to expectation…!

Chapter 15

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_You walk up to her_

_Ask her to dance._

_She says hey baby I just _

_Might take a chance._

_You say it's a good thing_

_That you float in the air._

_That way there's no way I will_

_Crush your pretty toenails to a thousand pieces…_

_Only in dreams. _

-Weezer, Only in Dreams

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Draco Malfoy stomped his foot to ward off the cold and growled in irritation. Where in Merlin was that Longbottom fool?

Longbottom had been supposed to meet him here, outside Hagrid's hut near the border of the Forbidden Forest at five o'clock in the evening. It was already six and the dance was an hour away. He wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. What he needed to do would take much longer than one hour!

"That stupid Longbottom had probably forgotten all about our agreement. Figures." He snorted. That idiot hadn't been given a Remembrall in first year by his grandmother for nothing.

He looked behind him and left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of the clumsy Gryffindor in the waning autumn sunlight. He rubbed his shoulders and watched as his breath came out in cloudy puffs. It was getting to be a bit chilly these days.

6.15 pm. Shit! Longbottom really wasn't going to come! It was now too late to go get him without raising a big fuss that would reveal his plans. Draco walked tentatively to the edge of the Forest and stared into its yawning maw. A wolf howled and he could feel the hairs on his neck stand. Groaning, he screwed his eyes together and clenched his fists. This was ridiculous! He thought, disgusted with himself. Here he was, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and practically a hero with a plethora of encounters with the Death Eaters under his belt and he _still_ hadn't gotten over his fear of the Forbidden Forest at night!

He gulped and forced himself to put one foot into the forest. Then another.

_This is for Hermione._

_You can do it! _

It was still as dark and scary as it had been all those years ago when he had been forced to serve detention with the Gryffindors. Walking slowly and cautiously so as not to disturb the Forest's many…denizens, he pulled out his wand in front of him and started to creep further in.

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Hermione traversed the moving staircases, not even bothering to feel annoyed when one staircase swung away at the last minute, leaving her to have to take another, much longer and more tedious route to the Great Hall.

She was right now on her way to the dance, but what she really wanted to do was to groan in embarrassment and bury her bushy head under the ground.

That's right, her bushy, bushy head.

A snide voice whispered, _so what's new about that?_

What had she been thinking, asking Draco if he wanted to walk to the Great Hall together?

She's been so excited, so hopeful of what the night might bring.

And what had he said?

"Uh…sorry Hermione, but I have something to do before that. Why don't you go ahead and I'll meet you at the Great Hall?"

If that wasn't a rejection she didn't know what was.

What was wrong with her?

Or, more specifically, what was wrong with her that made Draco Malfoy suddenly not seem to care?

The truth was, that while she had initially been skeptical about Lavender's idea to have a dance, witnessing the excitement of everyone else, and seeing all the plans Lavender, Padma, and Luna had drawn up, had made her feel somewhat eager…nervous even.

Normally she would've scoffed and dismissed everything about this dance, ignoring it in the favor of curling up in bed with her favourite book, but…it was just that…she hadn't felt this happy in such a long time now. And the fact that the source of that happiness was somehow Draco Malfoy did not make the whole situation now any better.

There was just something about Draco that had made her so look forward to this dance, made her think, deep in the secret schoolgirl recesses of her heart, that maybe, just _maybe_, something might happen at this dance. Something romantic, something magical; something special. Something that would make the war seem a mere bad memory. Something that involved herself and Draco.

That she could not help but feel…_hurt_ at his rejection was something she could not avoid, no matter how much she tried.

It was so utterly frustrating! Just a few months ago, the thought of Draco Malfoy would not have made her pause at all, and now a simple gesture, a few simple words from him were all she could focus on!

And now she wondered, had this all been a passing phase for him?

Or maybe…maybe she had been mistaken. Maybe he'd only always tried to be a good friend to her. Maybe…

_Get a grip, Hermione! All these maybes and what nots will not go towards helping them win this war at all. So just suck it up, ignore him being the usual prat that he is, go to the dance, have a good time and tomorrow you can concentrate on winning this war once and for all. _

She was done swooning over him, she told herself determinedly. Whatever he wanted to do was none of her business.

Nothing was wrong with her, and she was not going to think about him if she could help it.

Really.

She wasn't.

Right then.

She walked into the Great Hall with her head held high, trying and failing to persuade herself that the blonde-haired ferret meant nothing to her at all.

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Draco Malfoy had not had a good night in the slightest. First, that idiot Longbottom fails to show up, then he had to venture into the Forbidden-frickin' Forest all on his lonesome, and after pulling branches and leaves out of his face for a good half hour, he finally comes upon what he wanted, only then to be attacked by a bunch of blood-thirsty crazed acromantula!

And now, he was late for the dance. Hermione would no doubt disappointed and maybe just a bit infuriated.

He sighed. So much for his surprise.

He barged into the Great Hall, and some of the attendees at the periphery of the dance floor turned to stare at his bedraggled appearance. He glared back at them.

Buggering idiots. So he did not have the time to change into his dress robes. So what! He was still a Malfoy and Malfoys look good in whatever they wore.

At least, that was what he told himself. He rubbed his bruised and sore arm with one hand and cursed the bloody overgrown spiders for his sprained ankle that was now causing him to limp a little. He looked about him even as other students approached him to give their greetings. Giving a perfunctory and rather irritated smile (only Draco Malfoy could truly pull that look off), he walked about trying to find his Hermione.

_Where was She? _

And then he saw her.

She was just…wow.

Her golden-brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She was wearing a light blue robes of some kind of floaty material, and despite the fact that hers was not the most spectacular or gorgeous get-up in the room, her fresh beauty shone through, making Draco ache for her in ways and…_places_ he really shouldn't have.

And then he saw whom she was dancing with and a vein in his head began to pulse angrily.

Zacharias Smith was going to die. Painfully and with a maximum amount of gore.

And it was in this state that he stalked towards the couple, eyes only for the witch who had his complete and somewhat smoldering attention.

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She had already resigned herself to standing by the sidelines like a wallflower from the first swirl of Professor Flitwick's wand that had caused the music to start playing magically and loudly from all corners of the Great Hall. To be honest, with Draco nowhere in sight, Hermione did not even feel the inclination to dance at all. Happy couples spun all around her, and it was all she could do not to run to the girl's toilet like a first year to cry her eyes out in front of Moaning Myrtle.

It was only after Zacharias had asked to dance with her that she had thought, hey, why not?

She was a free woman. She could dance with whomever she wanted. And if a certain ferrety-_person_ thought he was too good to show up at the dance, then, well, it was his loss.

And then, just as she was in the middle of her second dance, she heard an abruptly loud bag and some muffled cursing. The cursing to her was really oddly familiar. On hindsight, she really shouldn't have been _that_ surprised as to who it was. Trying to strain her neck over the tall boy she was dancing with but to no avail, she turned her attention back to the wizard who was trying eagerly to engage her in conversation.

It was only when she was turning in time to the music that she saw him.

She let out a small _'Oh'_.

Practically _glowering_ at her and Zacharias was Draco Malfoy, striding towards them in a surprisingly good imitation of a scowling and murderous Severus Snape.

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"Excuse me, may I cut in?" asked Draco brutally, as, without waiting for an answer from a blustering Smith, he pulled Hermione away from him to claim her for himself.

He smirked triumphantly at her even as she glared back at him.

"What gives you the right to just cut in like that whenever you wanted to? You were being incredibly rude to poor Zacharias!"

"Oh, so he's now _poor_ Zacharias, isn't he?"

"What do you mean by that?"

He gripped her waist harder. "What I mean is you going around in other men's arms while I'm not around!"

Hermione sucked in her breath in outrage and hissed at him, ignoring the curious looks other couples were throwing their way, "There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I can't even begin to say how! Number one, who says I need your permission to dance with other men? I can do whatever I want and it's certainly none of your business whom I dance with! Number two, you're one to talk! You were the one who was one hour late in the first place!"

"I didn't mean to be late!" burst out Draco. And to Hermione, he really did seem to be frustrated, upset, and exasperated all at once. "I was only late because I'd been trying to get you this ruddy flower!

She was stunned speechless.

Finally, she managed to remember how to speak again and asked, "What flower?"

He bit his lip, resigned, "I had wanted this moment to be more romantic, but…well…this still comes from my heart Hermione."

And he removed a slightly crushed but still beautiful blood red rose from the inside pocket of his robes.

To the casual eye, this rose might seem like an every-day, common variety one.

But those who had studied their Herbology texts as well as Hermione had, would recognize the distinctive maroon markings on the outermost petals of the rose.

She gasped. This rose…it was…

"It's an Everlasting Rose," whispered Draco. "They last…"

Hermione interrupted and recited with textbook efficiency, "Everlasting Roses, they are a precious breed of flora that, if picked, and preserved, will last forever. They are also widely considered to be a test of love, as the person who tries to pick it will only be allowed to by this semi-sentient rose if he does so for his…true love."

He looked so shy and yet so pleased with himself at the same time that Hermione felt her previous anger all but melt away.

"So…" he started to ask, somewhat contritely and hesitantly, wondering if she still wanted to bite his head off, "dance with me?"

She nodded wordlessly, and trembling, he once again put his free hand on her slender waist, and guided hers to his shoulder. Smiling reassuringly, as if to say, _See, we can do this_, he tenderly led her forward.

And so for Hermione and Draco, the dance truly began.

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Draco Malfoy had never really been able to say what had attracted him so much to Hermione Granger. Was it her intelligence? Her wit? Her caring? Her fresh-faced wholesome beauty?

Then again, he could name countless other witches with those very same qualities, witches who were infinitely more suitable in terms of their lineages; witches who actually did not actively hate him. So what was it that he found so special about her? So entrancing? What was it about her that made him yearn to be with her with a startling intensity?

And now, dancing with her, taking in her vanilla scent, with his face against her hair, he realized that there was no need for reason, no need for logic; this was the woman he loved, this was _the_ woman for him.

He had reached out, and miraculously, she had grabbed hold of him as tightly as he held onto her.

And for that, he was never letting her go. He trapped her as surely as she had trapped him. She was practically in his bones now. He bid a sweet adieu to his freedom and nestled back contentedly into her arms.

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The song finally ended and Draco pulled her urgently away to a secluded alcove inside the Great Hall, eyes wild and strangely…feral. He let go of her once they were alone and it was only now that Hermione suddenly realized the disheveled and chaotic state that his robes and his normally perfect silky hair were in. Here and there were long gashes up his sleeve, revealing light scratches in areas where the cloth parted to reveal skin. Dirt, leaves, and other sorts of dark, slimy…particles that Hermione did _not_ want to think about were stuck to his robes, body, and hair. His face was flushed and smudged with mud. Despite all of this, however, he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Draco noticed her staring at him and he scratched his head, looking slightly abashed, "I erm…got attacked by some acromantula. Damn flowers like to grow by their lair."

"Acromantula!" she shrieked. He suddenly looked very wary as this particular shriek was by now famous to him and all the inhabitants of Hogwarts Castle. It meant the advent of McGonagall-like scolding, reprimanding, high-handed lecturing, and a whole lot of Hermione-patented screaming. He steeled himself for the inevitable and groaned. So much for the romantic interlude he had tried to engineer.

"DRACO MALFOY you dolt! I can't believe you did all that! What were you thinking, going into the Forbidden Forest at night, and all by yourself! That was an incredibly stupid and silly thing to do! You of all people should've known better!"

He hung his head like a puppy that had just been scolded for peeing on the rug and whined, "I know…I didn't mean to go on my own, it was that blasted Longbottom, he-"

"But…" she interrupted, and now she blushed, "that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, Malfoy. The sweetest and silliest thing. And I thank you for it."

His grin would have sliced through even the darkest of days, so bright it was.

They stared at each other for an indeterminable amount of time.

She, bashfully and occasionally looking away; he, unwaveringly with something stormy deep in his eyes.

"Hermione…" whispered Draco finally, breaking the silence, "Can I kiss you?"

"What?" she burst out, startled, "You want to what?"

He misinterpreted her shocked tone of voice as one of disgust/and or rejection.

Pushing his hands into the pockets of his robes, he mumbled, "It's not that bad, you know, kissing me. It might even be enjoyable…"

"No! No! I mean…yes! No…yes…um...well, that is to say…that's not what I meant." She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "What I meant to say was…yes! You can kiss me. If you want…though I never took you to be the sort to ask for consent first." She smiled somewhat nervously.

Draco's eyes lit up and he took one step closer to her, backing her against the wall. His fingers caressed her cheek lovingly and at that moment Hermione forgot how to breathe. Placing both hands by the sides of her on the wall, he pressed the entire length of his body against her soft, pliant one, savoring the feel of her body and her scent so irresistibly near his. He moved his head shakily towards hers, imagining all the while how he would finally plunder her soft pink lips, making every part of it his own. Every nerve in Draco's body was screaming for him to take her, take her _now_!

Her lips were just there…just there…a bit more…closer now…

_BANG!_

"GREAT BUGGERING HELL!"

The doors of the Great Hall boomed open, revealing an injured and slightly delirious Kingsley Shacklebolt, who swayed on his feet.

The rest of the Great Hall had turned their heads as one towards him, momentarily distracted only by Draco's colourful swearing.

"They have the Longbottoms." And in a move eerily reminiscent of Quirrell in their first year, Kingsley toppled over and fell onto the ground with a great 'thud'.

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"It's a ploy," bit out Bill Weasley curtly.

Lavender rolled her eyes and sighed, "Of _course_ it's a ploy. It's a bloody trap for Merlin's sake, by the Lestranges no less! So what're we going to do about it?"

Everyone looked uneasy at the mention of the all-too-familiar insane couple.

Zacharias Smith fidgeted on his feet and burst out characteristically, "Why should all of us risk our lives to save just three people, two of whom are mad and half-dead?"

Hermione shot a look at him caused him to want to shrivel up on the spot. "No one gets left behind, Smith. No one."

Everyone was silent and ashamed, staring down at the floor to avoid Hermione's wrath.

Draco finally piped up, "When do we leave?"

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	16. Godric's Hollow

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 16

"We need to leave now. Who knows what might've happened to Neville and his family in the few hours they've been held captive?" Turning to a revived Shacklebolt, she asked urgently, "Do you know where they took them?"

Her heart seized up as Shacklebolt rasped out, "Godric's Hollow."

_Shit. Where it all began. _

She could feel a headache coming on to her. "Do the Death Eaters have a stronghold there?" she asked Bill Weasley.

"According to our agents, yes."

She closed her eyes and tried to think. Okay then, obviously this is a trap. We will need a lot of people…she was not sure how many would want to go.

She looked at the witches and wizards surrounding her, and implored for their support from her heart.

"I know this was not the way we had envisioned our comeback. And I know not all of us are entirely ready. But…if all goes well, not only will we have saved the lives of three people, but we'll also have retaken Godric's Hollow."

"It is time to make a stand," said Hermione slowly, clearly, "Who will come with me?"

In the end, the room was so loud with everyone volunteering and offering to help that Hermione had to handpick twenty people for this task. She even had to bar an extremely pumped up and eager Arthur Weasley (Draco though was the one who had dissuaded him with a "Grandpa, you'd just be a liability.").

And in that moment, she was prouder than she'd ever been, prouder even than when she'd finally taught Ron how to do a proper Wingardium Leviosa.

They would make it through this war. She just _knew_ it. And she was not a know-it-all for nothing.

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Godric's Hollow was strangely silent as they made their way through the brambles and bushes that surrounded the area. Suddenly, they heard a terrible scream coming from the lit window on the second floor of the ruins of the house.

The scene was so eerily similar to what had happened to the Potters all those years ago that quite a few of them gulped in fear.

"Come on, let's go." whispered Hermione. They had earlier decided to separate into three groups before apparating to their destination. Hermione was to lead the first faction to the second floor, where Bellatrix and probably the Longbottoms were; Draco was to lead the second faction on the first floor, and Bill and Fred; the perimeter of the house and the surrounding area. All were to join Hermione and her group as soon as they had subdued the Death Eaters at their designated sections.

Draco had been quite reluctant to be apart from Hermione but she'd looked at him and said firmly, "I will be fine."

He knew she would, but still felt uneasy. "You'd better be." he'd drawled to hide his nervousness and fear for her safety.

They could see several Death Eaters from their hidden positions. One good thing about taking back territory was that it had been _yours_ in the first place, and you therefore knew all the good hideout spots and places where you could ambush the enemy. Bill and Fred put this theory to test with great effect as they and their group silently stupefied a couple of goons lounging outside the house. Giving Hermione and Draco's group the thumbs up, they proceeded to keep a lookout for other Death Eaters as the two groups stormed the house.

All of Bill and Fred's group were under invisibility cloaks, derived and patented from Harry's own.

The both of them grinned evilly.

Time to test out all the new pranks and spells that Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had invented before George was killed. Tonight, the Weasley brothers promised themselves, George would live again. This was going to be such _fun_.

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Hermione panicked slightly after they burst into the house as she realized that the Death Eaters had, indeed, been getting ready for their arrival. Green light shot towards them and she steeled herself for the inevitable, before the light bounced off harmlessly from a shield someone had erected. Winking at her, Draco moved forward with the rest of his team and thereon ensued a fierce battle.

Resolutely ignoring the sharp screams and chemical zings of magic all around her, Hermione motioned to her team members to follow her up the flight of stairs. She stunned a few Death Eaters who had come her way without thinking, and they flopped over the stairwell onto the ground below. The scene was…chaotic to say the least, with Death Eaters shooting spells left and right, Draco's faction trying to cover Hermione's faction and protect themselves at the same time, and Hermione's faction basically just cursing anyone who came in their way. Outside, the sky was red, with the crackle of…_firecrackers?_ booming loudly in sync to slightly crazed laughing and taunting. She would have been worried had she not recognized that hyena-like laugh as being Fred's. Well she certainly hoped the Weasley brothers were enjoying themselves.

A particularly loud shout she recognized as being that of Draco's distracted her momentarily, and she looked over the railings in dread, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had happened. The air was knocked out of her however when a large and heavy body pushed her to the side. It was Zacharias Smith. She felt mildly annoyed at this before seeing the blood dribbling down his right arm. His shoulder…so much blood…oh Merlin…

"Zacharias? Are you all right?" she whispered frantically while ducking a curse that zinged over their heads.

"I'm…I'm ok…" he whimpered feebly. "You g…go ahead, go get Neville, I'll be all right here."

"Are you sure? Your shoulder…let me just heal you now."

"Hermione!" he responded exasperatedly, wincing as his shoulder shifted painfully at this exclamation, "there's no time and anyway we'll all get blown to smithereens if you persist in staying here any longer. Go get Neville."

Eyes shining, she dragged him off to a more deserted corner. He smiled a weakly reassuring smile at her. She looked at him in the eye and said firmly, "You heard me before, right? No one gets left behind. We'll be back for you."

She rushed off to join the others. The battle had only just begun.

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Death Eaters galore were ranged on the upper floor of the house, and Hermione could see that all seemed to be blocking their way to the door at the end of the corridor. _That's where the Longbottoms are being kept then, _she told herself.

The two opposing factions circled each other warily, wands out in front, before Blaise Zabini yelled out the first curse. The scrimmage that followed was frenzied and brutal, with the Death Eaters shouting one unforgivable curse after another, and the Order wizards and witches trying to counter as frantically as they could.

She found herself backed into a corner by a startlingly familiar face. The Death Eater pulled back the hood that shadowed his features, and she stared into the pitiless granite eyes of none other than Antonin Dolohov, her opponent at the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year at Hogwarts.

"So, we meet again _devushka_. This time I will make sure to finish you off," he drawled confidently.

She straightened her back and glared at him, giving as good as she got. She might have been bested the last time they met, but she was now stronger, faster, and better. She would not give him any chances to find the chink in her armour this time.

"Serpensortia!" she cried as Dolohov yelled out "Crucio!" almost simultaneously. She ducked his curse but he had no opportunity to escape hers, which formed into a small but highly poisonous red coloured snake that darted forward to pierce his exposed ankle, injecting a paralyzing poison into his bloodstream. Dolohov howled in pain and grimaced as the poison began to take its effect. Hermione left him on the ground and continued on forward to the door at the end of the path.

She shot curses at the other Death Eaters who came forth to challenge her, occasionally looking around to see how her team members were doing. There was a slightly harrowing moment when she saw out of the corner of her eye a tall and intimidating MacNair transfiguring his wand into a large axe, swinging it at a yelping Luna Lovegood. All was all right the next time she turned around, however, as she saw that a beaming Luna had transfigured him into a cute, pink bunny rabbit, with two oddly large front teeth. Luna gave her the thumbs up and Hermione grinned back. _Good girl._

She then realized that, intentionally or not, a path was being cleared for her directly to where the Longbottoms were being kept. Sprinting forward with Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks, she burst through the door and immediately put up a shield around them (she had learnt her lesson), all the while hoping in like mad that the others she was leaving behind were capable enough to take the other Death Eaters on their own.

"Well, well, well. The cavalry have finally arrived. Took you long enough. No matter though, at least you all have had a few extra hours to live."

The icy and haughty tones of Bellatrix Lestrange cut through Hermione's consciousness. But she paid her no mind. Her attention was instead fixed entirely on the Alice and Frank Longbottom, their corpses looking like broken rag dolls, staring blankly up at the ceiling with almost identical grotesque looks of terror on their faces.

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Hermione snapped her head back to Bellatrix, who was smirking gleefully at the three horrified members of the Order.

"Like my work? You'll like this even more!" Bellatrix stepped aside with a flourish, and so fearful was Hermione of Neville's life that she almost sighed in relief when she saw he was merely dancing the cancan under the Imperious curse, with a ludicrous purple feather boa wrapped around his shoulders. Red, blistering burns and sores covered the parts of his body that she could see, and dried blood crusted his forehead, revealing a wicked gash just above his right eyebrow. And while the expression on his face was one of ludicrous joviality, she could see that his eyes were desperate and frightened. He was trying, but failing to fight through the haze that kept him under.

Hermione strode forward and gave her best Draco-learnt sneer, "Is that it? How unimaginative. My, my, Bellatrix, you really are getting worse with age."

She could see her opponent tightening her jaw and clenching her fists before relaxing slightly. "And you, my dear mudblood, are entirely too transparent in your feeble attempt to be a Slytherin. Trying to taunt _me_ into distraction? Tsk, tsk."

The three Order members were tight-lipped and tensed, wands at the ready for the imminent attack.

"Instead of attempting to do that, my dears, maybe you should've paid more attention to the ratios in this room. Just three of you…and seven of us." She grinned even more widely.

Charlie was so lightning fast that Hermione didn't even have time to blink. Rapidly, he stupefied two Death Eaters standing side by side, and even managed a, "And then there were five!" before the room spiralled into madness. It was like an old-time cowboy shoot-out in those American movies, with the Order members basically throwing curse after curse at the Death Eaters, while they in turn did the same. Hermione did not even have time to think; she just said whatever spell came to her mind first, she didn't even know if some of what she had yelled out were actual curses.

Spells were ricocheting off the walls and Hermione let out a gasp when she saw that one had gotten to Charlie. He let out a shout and managed to stun another Death Eater before collapsing in pain. She found herself looking over to him, wanting to help him, before stopping herself brutally.

_Focus! Hermione! _She screamed to herself in her head_. Pain! It means he's still alive! _

Then there were two against four.

Hermione disarmed one more with a quick Expalliarmus before Tonks went down, letting out a blood-curdling shriek after being hit by an excruciating Cruciatus by her aunt Bellatrix. Her previous injuries had not been completely healed, and she lay on the ground, writhing in pain that would not dissipate.

"And then there was one." spit out Bellatrix triumphantly. "Crucio."

It hit her before she had a chance to react, so stunned was she by the fact that she was the only Order member left standing in the room.

In the haze of her pain she could head shouts and screams echoing in the background outside the room.

"Crucio!" an ecstatic Bellatrix cried out once again.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, Hermione was glad that Bellatrix was the kind of twisted witch who liked to go for the long drawn-out torture instead of the quick, clean kill.

Then regretted that thought immediately when she felt another wave of agonizing, searing pain wash over her,

_Oh Merlin. What if we lose? _

_What if she'd led them all to their deaths? What if they weren't ready to take this on? What if Zacharias had been right, that it was a fool's errand to go gallivanting to the rescue of the Longbottoms, all the while knowing it was a trap? _

_It was all her fault. Her fault her fault her fault…_

_**Hermione? Stop mucking around. Get up. **_

In the confusion that fogged her mind, Hermione wondered vaguely who it was who was speaking to her. That voice sounded so forceful and assured. Supremely confident. Slightly bored even.

_Draco? Harry? …Professor Snape? _

_**No you silly twit. I'm you! **_

_What? It can't be, I…_

And slowly, she came to the realization that it was her. Just a…bossier version of her. The no-nonsense Hermione; the know-it-all, the girl who'd never left well enough alone, who ordered everyone around, who'd pushed and heaved and dragged the Order kicking and screaming back into the fight. She was in there somewhere, and she was very, very pissed off.

_Oh my goodness. Do I really sound that bossy and annoying all the time? _

_**Get up. You're too strong for this rubbish. Don't let her take you. **_

_What do I do? _The version of herself that she had termed 'whiny Hermione' asked.

Bossy Hermione gave a derisive snort, as if saying, "I can't believe I put up with this".

_**Use your god-given talents for goodness sake!**_

_What talents? She's got me on the ground. I don't see what I can do._

_**Oh…sod it. Your brains! Use your brains! They're your talents! Although at this point I'm not quite sure if they really are… **_

For some reason, a bossy Hermione sounded a whole lot like an acerbic Professor Snape. She wondered if this boded well for her future…

Looking up slightly, she could see from her vantage point on the ground that Bellatrix was strolling forward to deal with her, smug grin firmly on her face the entire time.

_Oh great._ She thought. _I bet she's going to come closer to kick me while I'm down._

Wait a minute. She's coming closer…to…she's coming closer!

This was her chance! Bellatrix might be alert for anything Hermione tried to do with her wand, but would she be alert for anything else Hermione might try to do? Especially if it was so muggle-ish, so unexpected, so…beneath her (or so she thought) that she would not expect it at all?

She steeled herself for the kick that came predictably. Whimpering and rolling around on the ground for added effect (though she did wonder if it wasn't a bit too much), she got ready for when Bellatrix reached down to haul her up by the front of her robes. As the older witch's fingers came closer Hermione reached out quickly to grab her hand and bit down hard, so hard and so savagely the flesh ripped and blood spilled.

Lestrange let out an ear-piercing howl, and Hermione took this opportunity to jump up and point her wand at the three remaining and very surprised Death Eaters, yelling out, "Immobulus!" All three of them were caught up within the perimeter of her spell's reach and froze in their places, as still as statues.

She grinned happily but had to turn her attention to the now glowering and fully focused Bellatrix who was now once again on her feet.

"Impedimenta!" "Avada Kedavra!" Both witches shouted out their curses at the exact same time, and Hermione was very surprised to see the much more malignant Avada hit her Impedimenta and dissipate into mere sparks. Her Impedimenta, on the other hand was only diverted from its path and hit a window to the side of the dancing Neville, breaking it with a loud crack. Bellatrix looked equally surprised and somewhat horrified as well, and Hermione took this opportunity to hit her with a stunner.

She flew backwards and hit a wardrobe quite spectacularly, smashing the wooden doors and landing with a loud "OOF!"

Grimacing, she got up again and Hermione was honestly quite impressed with the woman's endurance.

"You filthy little…" not finishing her sentence, Bellatrix shrieked out a "Crucio". The fall and the bite however had made her ungainly and slow, and Hermione saw this coming from a long way away. Putting up a shield to deflect it, she immediately countered with another Impedimenta that this time caused Bellatrix to collapse and stay down.

Panting heavily, Hermione could see Draco and the other members of the Order sliding into the room out of the corner of her eye. They appeared tired but grimly determined. _We must have won the battle outside._ Her confidence came sprinting back twofold.

She walked closer; casually flicking off another curse the now frightened but still defiant Bellatrix sent her way.

It would have been so easy to kill her, so easy to shout those two words that would totally eradicate this waste of space.

_She's cowering now! You've got her backed up against the wall! So why not do it? Why not exact a little retribution on the behalf of countless souls and people who had been done in by her? _

She took out her wand, and then stopped.

The tableau in front of her was all too familiar. The defenceless, helpless position Bellatrix now found herself in was one that Hermione herself had experienced not too long ago.

She felt a short stab of pity for this horrible woman before finally beginning to understand.

_This was what Harry would've wanted you to do. What Dumbledore would have wished for you to understand. _

Decision made, she stalked forward, her hard eyes and pitiless.

"Bellatrix, I'd like to say that this isn't personal, that it's all just about the war…but you're such a smarmy bitch. So yes, this is personal…

"Accio wand!" cried out Hermione, and as Bellatrix's wand fell into her hands she took great satisfaction in snapping it against her thigh.

The fallen Bellatrix backed up against the wall, whimpering as she stared at all the unfriendly faces around her. Her crazed and unfocused gaze locked onto Draco and she pleaded, "Draco…you…you know me, right? I'm your aunt Bellatrix, your mother's sister! You belong with us…with the Death Eaters. Stop all this foolishness right now! Come with us, join us! Our lord will forgive you, I promise you that!"

Whatever she expected however, Draco's response was not it. He seemed to grow more and more furious with each word she said, gripping his wand to tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"You want me to join you?" He finally burst out in disbelief. "You want my mercy? Where was YOURS when my mother was killed! Where was it when you LET THEM INTO OUR HOUSE!" He stalked closer in anger, all the while roaring, "Let me just kill this bitch Hermione! Let me kill her!"

"No!" shouted Hermione. "No, stop it Draco! We won't do this, we're better than them." She put a pleading hand on his shoulder, "We _have_ to be." She took a deep breath and whispered to him, willing him to understand, willing him and everyone else in the room to comprehend what she had only realized just now, what Dumbledore would have wanted them to know, "Or else what separates us from them? What use is this war?" Draco was still panting deeply and angrily, but he stilled.

"She is helpless now. And unlike Voldemort, it is quite unlikely she will be a danger if she is incarcerated_ and_ put into a full body-bind. We will send her to Azkaban where she will await trial, like the others."

Just as she said this, she heard Bellatrix snarl from behind her and scream out the killing curse.

Everything happened so fast, Hermione had only time to think vaguely, "_where did she get another wand?"_ before instinctively muttering "Protego", putting up a shield around her. The malignant green light bounced off it and to everyone's astonishment, rebounded back at breakneck speed towards a shrieking Bellatrix, killing her instantly.

Neville was released from the Imperio immediately after Bellatrix toppled over, dead. He stopped his macabre dance, panting heavily from the exertion. The whole room held its breath, not daring, not wanting to say anything. He took one look at his parents, and then at Bellatrix, and before Hermione could do anything to stop him he rushed towards the body with a wail and started to kick it viciously and desperately. Charlie moved to stop him but she shook her head at him.

The sobbing and strange whimpering finally stopped, and Neville backed away from the body in terror and disgust. What was once Bellatrix Lestrange was now beaten into a bloody pulp of flesh and bones.

"What…what have I…?" She put her arms around him and pulled him close as he ran into her and sobbed on her shoulder. "I…I didn't mean to Hermione! I didn't mean to!"

His stricken voice broke her heart. Everyone else in the room looked down or away, averting their eyes from the terrible scene.

For a long while, she just stroked his back, not knowing what to say. Then finally, she whispered, "I understand Neville, I understand."

And the thing was, she really did.

00000

Night time in the Slytherin Dungeons was silent and velvety dark. It was the kind of darkness however that was welcoming, embracing; one that absorbed you and made you part of it. Hermione was just dreaming about how she'd forgotten to do her homework (a recurrent nightmare with her) when she felt something snake across her arm, a light and feathery caress. Before the known-perpetrator could streak back to his bed, she reached out and grabbed him, eliciting a yelp from a panicking Draco Malfoy.

"I um…I was ah…I was just um looking for my…err…"

"I believe we have some unfinished business, you and I," she blurted out before she could start analyzing and change her mind.

Draco's eyes widened and turned silvery as he realized what she was saying. Trembling, he tangled his fingers in her soft sleep-mussed curls and leaned in closer, heart thrumming in time to his anticipation and exhilaration.

And as he bent his head towards hers in wonder and surrender, she could feel the blood in her body sing and rush to her head. His lips touched hers, softly, gently, nibbling on her lips to get just a taste, and then deeper, wilder, and more demanding. His hold on her tightened and his lips were pressed desperately against hers, taking everything she had to give. She was falling…losing control, losing herself in his embrace, in his touch, his tongue that was plunging so delightfully into hers.

There was something…natural in kissing him, something primal and raw and beautiful.

And in that moment the stars could have burst in the sky and the whole world could have exploded but she would not have cared.

_So this is love._

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Author's Note: For all those who screamed/yelled/fell off their chairs after last chapter's non-kiss: I hope this makes up for it!

Also,_ devushka_ means 'girl' in Russian (I'm assuming Dolohov's Russian).


	17. Prophecy Revealed

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Prophecy taken word for word from The Order of the Phoenix. **

**Author's Notes: Thanks for all the great reviews! Sorry this chapter has come a bit late. I've been really busy with school and everything, plus I've been updating a new fic – Nemessos – please read and review it! It's not bad! Haha. Ok, end pimping. **

**To answer a question that caught my eye…**

**frenchpiment: Thanks for your review! Yes, I intend to continue on with this fic till the very end. Also, while it does seem that quite a substantial number of the Death Eaters have been offed, I'm going with the premise that Voldemort has quite a sizeable army on his hands. Some of his key lieutanents (Bellatrix) have been killed and he has suffered a setback at Godric's Hollow, but he is in no way backed against a corner. **

**Chapter 17: Prophecy Revealed **

The days following the battle melted away till it was once again deep winter. Winds howled across the Scottish hills and snow swirled in the air, seemingly dancing in their delight to be once again let loose on the world as Hermione sat motionless, staring out into the grounds from the window seat of one of Hogwart's numerous towers.

She'd been unable to sleep, and, rather than tossing and turning the night away, had decided to come up here to sit and think.

She'd always loved the beauty of this place. Not just the castle too, but the rolling hills and secret valleys that had come to characterize what Hogwarts was all about. Magic.

Indeed, there was magic out in those ancient hills; something old, thrilling, free, elemental; even more so than the magic being performed here within these walls. The magic that was out there…well, what we did would probably seem like child's play to them, wouldn't it? She mused silently.

The lands were dark, and not much could be seen of them but the vague outlines, but she could sense them. Sense them calling out to her, speaking to her.

But it was a comforting presence, for they too understood the threat that Voldemort posed for them. They too saw the rivers of blood running in between the valleys, like a deep cut slashed across the skin.

They had to stop him.

But did she really believe they could beat him?

Saturday's defeat of Bellatrix certainly gave much hope and cheer to the embattled occupants of Hogwarts.

And while victory was becoming more and more tangible every day, while she believed in it, hoped for it, could almost taste it…she still had absolutely no idea how they were supposed to get around to it. How could they get around what the prophecy had predicted?

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"_

Draco had claimed that it was all a load of hogwash. And while she tended to agree with him, she was not so sure. Before Harry's death, he had confided in her about the time when he'd actually seen Trelawney give a true prediction. Majority of what she usually said in class was rubbish of course, but when she did give a true prophecy, it was, according to Harry, incredibly scary and all too real. Her voice would…change. And after that she'd had no recollection of what she'd said before.

She sighed and drew her legs closer to her body for warmth. She had no idea what to do now. Every time she went back to the prophecy, she couldn't seem to find anything of use. She believed in it, in victory...but the means to get there seemed to be getting more and more vague with each passing day.

Well, she consoled herself, at least everyone in the castle was doing okay. They had found Zacharias Smith cowering in an abandoned room after the whole ordeal was over. He had lost quite a bit of blood, but under Madam Pomfrey's ministrations, he was now doing just fine. Neville too had been amazing. After two weeks in the Infirmary recovering from his injuries, both mental and physical, he was now up and about, helping out the running of the castle in every way possible. She did realize that he seemed to be dealing with his grief by throwing himself whole-heartedly in the fight against Voldemort, and she told herself to keep an eye out for him in case he overworked himself.

To be honest though she admired him. He might not have been as powerful as Harry, or as smart as Hermione, or even as foolhardy as Ron; but his bravery and courage beat them all time after time. Sure, they were the ones who had all those crazy adventures, and Harry was the one who had stood up to Voldemort time and time again. But Neville had always been the most afraid of all of them. But he still quelled his fear…and still he kept getting up, over and over again to fight alongside them.

"A sickle for your thoughts?" a voice behind her said dryly.

"Well it would be a sickle," replied Hermione, turning around. "But for you, Young Master Malfoy I think I should charge a galleon, shouldn't I?" she grinned slyly at him, eyes twinkling.

"We've not been together two weeks and already you're demanding money from me. Figures." He grumbled. "And by the way, the money's locked up in Gringotts till I'm twenty-one and the Mansion is in shambles. I am unfortunately quite destitute right now."

She eased into his embrace and he murmured softly against her skin. "Just what are you doing here on a cold night like this?"

"Just thinking." She replied evasively.

His left eyebrow quirked, "About the prophecy?"

"Well, yeah." Admitted Hermione sheepishly.

"You know you can't keep thinking about this at all times of the day you know. Some times of the day you should devote to thinking about me!" he said half-jokingly.

"And why should I do that, Malfoy?"

"Because I think about you all the time." He whispered. And as she turned to look at him wonderingly she could see that it was true. Part of it excited her, but the other part made her a little frightened. What if she had never returned his feelings? Would he have stalked her forever, even if she was with someone else? And what if Voldemort offered to him what he could not have had otherwise? Would he have accepted, despite his hatred of him for killing his mother? There was still so much of Draco she did not know about. She really hoped he was in this fight for the right reasons.

"Come to back bed Hermione."

Her eyes sparkled, and she teased, "Don't tell me you can't sleep without my being there?"

"But I really can't" he whined petulantly. "If I don't hear your breathing I get all cranky and wound up too tight. And then I can't sleep."

"Alright then Draco." She gave him a maternal smile at his adorable pouting expression. "Let's go back to our beds."

00000

The library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy was musty, dust covered, and deserted as usual. All was silent, except for one corner at the very back, near the restricted section of the library.

Here, one could hear the frantic scribblings of a bushy haired girl, and the soft sighs of a besotted male as he stared at her from his seat across the table, not believing that what he had wanted for so long was finally his.

The girl lifted her head and frowned at his lack of industrious activity. Suitably chastised, the male (well, boy really) jumped in his seat and resumed reading the thick tome in front of him, high spots of pink in both cheeks as he apologetically skimmed the book with increased intensity.

Her presence always distracted him however, and within five minutes he was staring at her with a hang-dog expression once again, stocking-ed feet drifting oh-so-surely and sneakily towards hers to fondle and feel.

Honestly! Hermione thought. Here she was, trying to concentrate on searching for that bloody hard to find loophole in the Prophecy, and what was Draco doing but trying to play footsie with her!

How irresponsible.

And not to mention very distracting.

She shivered involuntarily when she felt his feet go higher up her calves. He smiled knowingly, his large frame draped languidly on the chair, staring at her through half-lidded eyes.

The memory of his sensual and wild kisses from the night before hit her full force and she too began to stare dreamily at him until she finally remembered what they were here for and again resumed her reading of the book, shooting him a stern glare.

"Oh come on Hermione…surely we have time for a little…break?"

"Draco Malfoy!" she hissed. "This is not the time nor place for your…your…active imagination! We're in the library!"

"Exactly."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before turning a bright shade of pink. "The…the library is for studying! And reading! And studying!" she spluttered.

"Granger!" he scoffed. "Don't tell me you've never snogged in the library. All that time spent with the Weasel in here and all you two have ever done was study?" His features grew incredulous when her gaping mouth confirmed this.

"Well then…now's the best time to learn eh? The stacks are the perfect place you know." He leaned forward. "So quiet, deserted…where no one can hear you scream…or moan."

She swallowed nervously as he continued drifting his fingers lazily up her arm. "Not to mention how cool and dark the stacks are. Very nice and dim. Just like a…bedroom, wouldn't you say?"

"It also has that lovely smell of books that you so enjoy. And don't deny it, I've seen you inhaling the scent of the books you read. You like that, don't you?"

She was slowly but surely leaning in towards him, leaning in so closely that she could smell his unique scent and see the small blond hairs that curled at his hairline. His soft hair was falling over his face and he gazed at her with a look that was half intense and half mischievous. He was just so…beautiful.

"Um, guys?"

The two of them jumped apart quite spectacularly, banging their knees loudly against the bottom of the table, causing it to jolt violently.

"Yes Neville?" squeaked Hermione embarrassedly. The colour was slowly returning to her cheeks and Draco laughed silently at how funny and adorable she was like this.

"Um…well I didn't mean you bother you two…"

"No it's fine. No problem at all!" she was still squeaking like a terrified mouse and Neville was looking distinctly uncomfortable at having intruded on what was obviously an _intimate_ scene.

"It's just that…well…Madam Pomfrey has pretty much healed most of my…wounds." He shuddered slightly at the memory, but soldiered on, "But…there's this…scar…at my right eyebrow that won't stop hurting. And the scar won't go away too. It's been more than two weeks. Madam Pomfrey's tried everything but nothing seems to work, and I know it's not a big deal, it's just that it twinges quite a bit, and I was wondering if you two know anything about it and, um, you know if you could help me…"

As Draco could see that Hermione was still too flustered to do anything he interjected brusquely, "Let me see it Longbottom."

Neville lowered himself onto the chair next to Draco's and lifted his fringe for Draco to inspect. Just…there, just above his right eyebrow was a pretty nasty cut. Draco sucked in his breath. Longbottom had greatly underestimated the severity of his wound! Scar my arse! It was still weeping bits of pus!

He looked at it in disgust. "You mean it's been more than two weeks and its still not properly healed! Even with Madam Pomfrey's healing charms? Why haven't you said anything sooner, Longbottom! That's gross that is!"

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. He gave her a shrug. "Neville, let me see." She leaned towards him to examine his wound.

"_Medicor_"! she cried. She leaned in to look at it again but it was still not healed. "_Condico_!" Still did not work. "_Redintegro_!", "_Reparo_!"

She tried about a dozen healing charms that she knew before giving up. Sighing, she cast a cleaning charm to clean up the oozing pus so that she could look at it more clearly.

Funny. She thought. It was an odd…v-shape almost. Like a victory sign. Weird.

She leaned back in her seat and looked up at Neville oddly. "Neville, maybe if you tell use how you got this wound, we might be able to better heal it for you. Who gave it to you, for starters? Bellatrix?"

Neville gulped visibly as he tried to remember what had transpired on that unlucky day. "N-no…no it wasn't Bella – " he swallowed again, "Bellatrix. It was Voldemort."

Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"He…c-came by earlier to well…to mock at me and my parents I suppose. He um…gave me this when he hit me with his wand hand. His wand kind of…well, nicked me above the eyebrow I guess."

He turned to look at their shocked faces and asked worriedly, "It's not fatal is it?"

Hermione closed her gaping mouth with a snap and continued to stare at him, not saying a word.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…"_

_The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…mark him as his equal…mark him as his…_

A triumphant smile slowly graced her features. "No Neville, it isn't. In fact, it's the best thing to happen to us in months…"

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**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! And I know I don't say this very often, but as I'm really a review whore, please review! **


	18. Neville Longbottom

**Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.K. Rowling. **

**Author's Notes: Sorry that this chapter took so long! I was just so bogged down with examinations, and after that I went on a much needed and restful holiday, and have not had the time to get back to this story till now. Hopefully all of you will enjoy this new chapter, and once again thanks for all the wonderful reviews! **

**Chapter 18: Neville Longbottom **

"Okay Longbottom, take deep breaths alright? In, out, in out…and…just…try not to throw up on these library books while we're gone?" With that, Draco left a green and obviously queasy looking Neville Longbottom by his seat in one of the reading room's of the library while he left to shout at…no, no, not shout,_ discuss_, yes, discuss about what that bloody witch had just gone and done without any warning whatsoever.

To make a long story short, Hermione had blurted out what she had believed to be the meaning of the prophecy: that Neville had taken on the role vacated by Potter, and was now the one who either had to kill or be killed by Voldemort himself.

To be perfectly honest, Draco thought that this 'interpretation' of hers was total bollocks.

It's not that he doubted Hermione's intelligence. He, of all people knew that she ran circles around him in terms of the intellectual stakes. But for Merlin's sake, this was Neville Longbottom!

He now of course doubted Hermione's _sanity_.

Turning back before he closed the door to the room, he gazed upon Longbottom who had, thankfully not yet thrown up in his presence. Well, best leave him to it then! Thought Draco as he quickly slammed the door just as he glimpsed a frightening lurch from Longbottom's shoulders.

Truly, Draco could not blame him for his terror. It was not every day that someone told you that you were the one to kill one of the greatest and most evil wizards of our age. It was as if you were strolling along a park, nice as you please, and suddenly someone ran up to you and announced that you had five seconds to dismantle a bomb or the whole world would go to the cleaners.

Potter had years to get used to the idea, that he was Voldemort's Numero Uno target, that, between the two of them, it was kill or be killed.

But Longbottom was just…Longbottom.

To be sure, no one had ever expected much of him. Yes, he was good with plants, yes, of all the Gryffindors, he would be the first to back you up if you ever had any trouble and ever needed someone to be there with you. He'd probably faint in fright before he got any action of course, but the important thing was _he would be there_.

However, the fact that Dumbledore had given him fifty house points for standing up to and ultimately getting cursed by the trio in first year spoke volumes on what exactly was expected of one Neville Frank Longbottom. He was always expected to be the one on the sidelines, the one to cheer on the heroes, the wingman, the bumbling supporting character with the tragic subplot, and not the big hero trampling down the doors. That was more of Harry's, Hermione's, and might Draco say it, yes, even more of the Weasel's role. Not this. Never this. The fact that they had come down to Neville Longbottom as England's sole saviour put their situation in a startlingly stark light.

He sighed. _If Hermione is right…then_ _we're never going to make it, are we?_

Outside the door the witch in question burst out before he could say anything, "Alright I know I shouldn't have just blurted it out in front of him just now, but Draco, I know I'm right!"

He lifted an eyebrow while she stared back at him defiantly. Well, at the very least, it was obvious his life was going to be very…_interesting_ in the future, if they did survive.

"Hermione, do you know that Neville's probably just thrown up in there? I think it's pretty much an understatement when you said that you probably shouldn't have told him about what _you_ think the prophecy to mean."

"What do you mean, what I think it to mean?" said Hermione as her voice rose in volume, her hackles rising at his scathing tone.

"What I mean is how can you be so certain it's him anyway? I mean, come on, let's all be frank here, Longbottom's a nice bloke and all but he's not exactly hero material. You saw him at Godric's Hollow! The guy was easily subdued by Bellatrix and was dancing the cancan under the Imperius!"

"That doesn't mean anything! Draco, listen to me, he was born at the end of July, same as Harry, and his parents had defied Voldemort three times, same as Harry's!

"But – " he began before she cut him off. "But nothing! Both of them fit in the prophecy perfectly, and Harry only became the one talked about in the prophecy because Voldemort chose him instead of Neville. Now Neville has received the mark as well! The prophecy has turned to Neville! It makes perfect sense!" Hermione's cheeks shone red with excitement as she explained her findings to him and, for the love of Merlin, Draco found himself having no more inclination to shout or even disagree with her.

Unexpectedly he reached out to twirl one of her soft messy curls around his finger and she started, surprised. "And so what?" he said softly, "So what if Neville fits the description of the person talked about in the prophecy? You saw him; the boy can't hold a wand without trembling from here to China. He's not suitable for combat." Slowly, deliberately, he pulled her closer and closer till she was flush against his chest. Her eyes widened and now her cheeks were red for an entirely different reason altogether. She could hear every breath that he took, every beat of his racing heart.

He continued playing with her hair and, for the love of Merlin, she no longer felt like arguing with him. Drat the man! "But didn't you say he knocked Ginny out with a vase? I thought you said he was brave."

"Yes, yes, yes," he whispered next to her ear, and her heart seemed to leap joyfully and painfully at his words, "and after he knocked her out he would have been avaded if I hadn't been there to stun the Death Eater behind him."

He sighed again, and smiled one of his secret smiles for her. The kind of smile that was not a smirk and not a sneer but a slight quirk of the lips, the kind of smile that promised everything and held back nothing. "Must we fight about this? Can't we just stop terrorizing the poor boy for the time being, and make sure that he really is the one the prophecy speaks of? I mean, what can we do for now, anyway?"

"But Draco, we're running out of time…"

They were interrupted however once again by a considerably less green-looking Neville, who stumbled out the door, and, after righting himself, stared shamefully at his feet.

"Look, I…I'm sorry that I freaked out like that just now. It's just…you know, a lot to take?" he laughed weakly and looked up at them, unsure of himself.

Hermione smiled encouragingly at him while Draco scowled. He didn't like the way this conversation was going.

Longbottom sighed. "I'm r-really not Harry you know. I don't have all his, his powers and his strength," he waved his arm around for emphasis. "And I'm not as smart or as powerful as you either Hermione…and you, of course Malfoy." He amended hastily after an evil look from Draco.

"But…I j-just wanted to let you know that, you know, not that we really know whether this prophecy thing is true or not, but well, I just wanted to say that, well…" He took a deep breath and continued, "No matter what, I will be willing to do anything I can to help defeat Vol-Vol…You-Know-Who."

"That's great news Neville!" cried Hermione, her eyes shining. "Oh I couldn't have hoped for anything else! This is just so fantastic! We have to start training as soon as possible, no time to waste! First thing tomorrow morning I will owl Moody and we'll see what we can do about him training you for the battles ahead, and then maybe I'll see if Hagrid can scrounge up some blast-ended skrewts or something for practice, or maybe Charlie can get a dragon…or would that be asking too much?"

She soon lacked an audience however as Neville fainted dead away and dropped like a stone on the floor.

00000

"_That's great news Neville! You're the saviour of the UK Neville! This is just sooo bloody fantastic! Ooh we have to start training as soon as possible, no time to waste! How about I get a dragon for you Neville? Wouldn't that be just lovely?_" Draco mimicked in a high voice and glared at Hermione as the both of them levitated an unconscious Neville to the infirmary.

"Oh just stop it Malfoy! No one asked for your opinion." Hermione sniped nastily back at him.

"Well I'm not giving one alright Granger? I'm merely repeating what you said. Your words were just so effective I just had to say them all over again!" Neville's head hit the staircase with a loud thump but neither of them noticed.

"Well, if it weren't for you being so contemptuous about the whole thing and glaring at him all the way, maybe he wouldn't have fainted!"

_Thump. _

"Or, here's an idea, maybe he wouldn't have fainted if he weren't such a bloody chicken shit!"

_Thump. _

"If I didn't know better Draco Malfoy, I'd say you were jealous!"

_Thump. Thump. _

"Jealous! Me? Of that…that…of Longbottom! The man's a flobberworm compared to me!" shouted Draco hysterically.

_THUMP. _

"Ah-ha! Jealous!" Hermione screamed triumphantly at him. "You see you're jealous because he's the one who will kill Voldemort and not you, and you can't stand that a man you deem lesser than you could be more powerful!"

"I don't give a rat's arse who kills that wanker! I just…"

"Hermione…"

The both of them stopped their quibbling and snapped their heads as one towards the beds on the left side of the room as they heard the eerie whimper.

Staring right at them was Ginny Weasley, eyes wide and frightened, and Hermione knew at once that that _was_ Ginny, and not the repugnant fake who had controlled her body for so long.

"Hermione," she said again, her voice high and weak, shuddering as if from some kind of exertion, "Help me, please."

00000

**Author's Notes: I know this was quite short, but I wanted to get it out quickly. Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	19. Saving Ginny

**Disclaimer: Not mine, and not for profit. **

**Author's Notes: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! If anyone's wondering, I will be finishing this fic, and it doesn't matter if one person's reading it or if 100 people are, I will finish it. Once again, thanks for reading! **

**Chapter 19: Saving Ginny**

"Draco," called Hermione, her stare rooted to the girl with the frightened eyes, body straining and shuddering against the invisible bonds, "Go get Madam Pomfrey."

But Draco could only gaze with a kind of horrified fascination at Ginny. He was shocked and curious, and yet…he felt as if the air around him were getting thicker, slimier. His hair stood on end, and he could feel the skin crawl on the back of his neck. There was something not quite right with this situation, but by Merlin he could not bring himself to turn away.

"Draco!" Hermione's voice, now louder and more panicked brought him out of his trance, "Go get Madam Pomfrey now! And after that owl the Weasleys and call Professor Sinistra!"

"Oh, ok, sure." He seemed confused for a second but then bolted on his feet towards Pomfrey's office.

Slowly, carefully, Hermione walked towards the girl she hoped in all her heart was Ginny. If that was Ginny…if that really _was_ Ginny…

_Then I have not entirely failed you, Ron. _

Because the destruction of Hogwarts, she could take. Its invasion by the Dementors she could handle. And although the multitude of injuries and ailments that could be seen all around the castle were heartbreaking and cruel, Hermione could look at them, and then look forward, thinking of that soon, not now, but soon, in the future they would get better - of how they would rise up and fight back, of how everything, the castle, the society, the way of life, the people…the innocence of the Wizarding World were still salvageable.

Ginny Weasley however was the face of her undeniable failure. Her regret. Of how she was and would always be unaccountable to Harry and Ron.

The fact that the girl now was stirring, seemingly really alive – lit a fire in her heart.

"Ginny?" she called out, softly. "Ginny is that really you?"

The girl whimpered in assent. "Hermione…I…he's got me. I…I can only be here for a while, it's so difficult…"

"Got you where, Ginny? Where has he got you?" said Hermione sharply in alarm.

"I…I…" Ginny looked bewildered at the question. "Not…not here. I'm not here…"

By now Hermione had reached Ginny's bed, and she sat on the chair beside her and held her hand cautiously. In the periphery of her vision she could see the large form of Madam Pomfrey bustle out of her office and stride towards them. Draco it seemed had hurried out of the infirmary to do what she'd told him to earlier.

"Miss Granger, what's going on?" asked Madam Pomfrey in her strident voice, but Hermione ignored her, gazing steadfastly at Ginny.

"What do you mean you're not here? Ginny, I'm right here with you. Don't be afraid."

"No he's…but yes…I am here now…but…I don't know for…for how long." She sounded so lost and young and alone that Hermione ached to wrap her arms around her to comfort her.

"Ginny…Ginny look at me, tell me what's been going on."

But Ginny seemed in a world of her own, as she had apparently been in the months where something else had overtaken her body. "I…he's always there. Laughing at me. I see him all the time. I see the people he kills and tortures…I hate…hate…it's horrible!" Her skinny arm shot out to grasp at Hermione's fingers, grasping them, but too weak to hold on. Her clammy fingers slipped through Hermione's own to fall forlornly to the mattress.

Suddenly, she looked up, blood-shot eyes staring eerily straight at Hermione, "Don't let him get me again." And just like it had never happened, the red-haired girl flopped back onto the bed like a fish and then lay still.

"Ginny," Hermione could only stare wide-eyed at her. "Ginny…" panic settled in and she started shaking her by the shoulders, shouting "Ginny!" the whole while, ignoring Pomfrey who tried to pull her away.

_No, this can't be…she was just here! Now she's like one dead…no…it's not possible. _

With one final wrench Madam Pomfrey pulled her away from the bed, "Miss Granger! Control yourself!" and because she had also seen what had come to pass in her infirmary, Madam Pomfrey walked silently to Miss Weasley's bed and gazed at her in some kind of numb shock.

Right at this moment Draco burst into the room once again, this time bringing Professors Sinistra, Flitwick, and Arthur and Molly Weasley.

"Here! There she is! That's where we found her and…" his words trailed off upon seeing the once again prone Ginny. "But we…"

"She was alive!" Hermione cried, cutting in, "She was right here! And now she's gone!"

As one it seemed Molly and Arthur turned to her, shocked yet hopeful expressions all over their faces. "Is this true?" whispered Mrs. Weasley, asking Madam Pomfrey imploringly.

"Well I…I don't really know…she seemed to be talking differently…"

"Mrs. Weasley, she was talking to me! She was talking to me like a human being!"

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A few days later what was left of the Order sat around in a circle in one of the abandoned classrooms of the castle. The group had by now included a rather shame-faced Neville Longbottom, whose fainting-spell had spread like wildfire through the castle, not doing much good to his already battered reputation. Something else had spread even faster though, and it was the news of Ginny's awakening.

The meeting was supposed to have been a discussion as to what should be done about the Weaselette, but two hours had gone by, and not only were they were no closer to coming to a decision, but Draco was also dead bored.

"But what if that wasn't really her?" argued Fred Weasley, an argument, Draco noted, that hadn't been changed in content just repeated in what seemed to be twenty different ways, "Almost a week has gone by and she's the same as she's always been! What if that was just You-Know-Who playing tricks on us? He's done that once before, through Ginny, what makes you think he isn't doing it again?"

Draco steeled himself for the sobbing he knew would next occur.

"Fred Weasley!" sobbed Molly Weasley right on cue, "Why are you so set against the idea that your sister might really have woken up? Why don't you want her to be saved?"

"It's not that I don't want her to be alright mum! I just don't want to get our hopes up!"

"But Hermione said that she's sure it was her! Fred just open your mind to the idea that she may be right! And what if she is? Then your poor baby sister has been stuck in there, getting tortured by You-Know-Who for who knows how long!"

And so on and so forth.

He was starting to regret ever agreeing to this idea of a meeting in the first place. Mind, while he did want Ginny to be all right and the sun to come up tomorrow and all that, he really couldn't see the point in all this. So she might be in there or she might be not. What did this do to help their cause against the Dark Lord? Why were they in here, wasting time on the Weasel family when they could be doing something much more constructive?

He glared at that chicken-shit Longbottom, who caught his eye and looked away quickly. Things like kicking our supposed would-be savior's arse into shape so that their side wouldn't be the laughing-stock of the Death Eaters at the very least?

He could see Hermione clenching her jaw, and knew immediately her feelings of helplessness in all this. She had been so heartbroken when the Weaselette just went out like a light after all she had told her. He reached out to hold her hand, smiling at her encouragingly. The fact that he could still smile non-sarcastically after all this was really a testament he supposed, as to how he felt about her.

He leaned over to whisper to her, "How are you holding up?"

She sighed heavily, "I…I don't know. I was so sure that it was her, but after all this, I…I really don't know what it was I saw and heard. Who knows if I'm right or wrong?"

"But…I thought you told me you were very sure? I mean…I remember feeling all weird when I saw her. Like little spiders crawling up my arm."

She rubbed her face tiredly, "The thing is…maybe I want her to be alright so badly, that it's clouding my judgment. Maybe I shouldn't have told the Weasleys so soon."

She turned back to the 'discussion' and Draco sighed and leaned back in his seat, stretching for what he knew to be a very long remainder of the meeting to come.

Another hour of sobbing and shouting ensued, with Hermione having to separate Arthur and Fred Weasley several times before they broke out in fisticuffs. Draco was even starting to look forward to spending time with that loser Longbottom. They were supposed to have a Hermione-mandated training session after this, and he grinned evilly. Dueling practice. And guess who the instructor was?

Another half-hour though of Hermione trying to explain to everyone again what she saw and of that wet-blanket Brown questioning her sarcastically and Draco just couldn't take it anymore. What was the point of this? Well if they weren't sure if she were in there or not, then why don't they just go in and find out?

And it was due to a large amount of mental exhaustion and irritation that caused Draco to blurt out what, on hindsight was an incredibly stupid suicide-mission, one he would not have ordinarily volunteered for, especially if it was to save a Weasley.

"Why don't I just perform Legilimency on her to find out, and then maybe I can finally leave this infernal meeting before Christmas!" he shouted loudly, shocking everyone into a deep silence.

All eyes turned to him, and Hermione frowned, "You can do that? You're a Legilimens? You never told me!" she said accusingly.

"Well you never asked alright? Snape taught me." he answered, a little irritated at her and at himself for turning all eyes uncomfortably on him.

"And how would he be able to perform it on her if she's either knocked out the whole time or in the form of that crazy banshee?" asked Lavender insensitively and loudly. Somewhere far-off Draco could hear a telltale sob coming from Mrs. Weasley.

"You shut your gob Lavender Brown," said Tonks, who turned to Madam Pomfrey and asked, "Would this work?"

"Well…I think…I could always give her a potion to put her in a half-trance I suppose. Would that work? She wouldn't be in her…um…other incarnation but she wouldn't totally unconscious either."

Hermione was biting her lips nervously, and said in half-excitement, "It could work. Oh, Mrs. Weasley, it could work! If she's really in there…if she's in there with some kind of entity that is a part of Voldemort…then perhaps Draco can try to enter her mind after she's taken that potion, and try to see if the real Ginny's in there or not."

"Wait a minute here," interrupted Arthur Weasley, "What if Hermione's wrong though? What if this is all an act by You-Know-who? What would happen then if you perform Legilimency on her?"

"Well…erm…" Draco scratched his head, thinking, "then she dies, and I probably fall into a coma from which I might never wake up." He really didn't know how to put this in a better sounding way.

The head of the Weasels' face seemed to become as red as his hair, and he barked out immediately, "Then absolutely not! I will not allow you to perform such a risky spell on my only daughter! What if she dies? Do you even care about that?"

"Hey old man were you even listening to what I said?" countered Draco in exasperation, "I said that there's a high chance that I would die too, along with her! I'm risking my own life as much as she is!"

He heard Fred begin saying, "So what you're a…" before Shacklebolt cut in. Draco supposed that the missing word was probably "Malfoy" or "Inbred Ferret" or "Wannabe Death Eater".

"He's right," said Shacklebolt, "If this has all been an act, then the only mind in Ginny's body is some kind of a remnant of Voldemort's. Without another mind to shield Mr. Malfoy, Voldemort would soon sense a foreign presence in there, and as the person performing the Legilimency might be able to access his secrets through the remnant mind, Voldemort may decide to cut his losses and pull the remnant mind out of her, to safeguard his secrets."

The room had by now gone quiet, and Shacklebolt looked around at the people in the room and then continued, "Once the remnant mind is gone Miss Weasley would die, as there would be nothing left in her to keep her alive. Mr. Malfoy's mind too could suffer great damage from the pull-out and Voldemort might attack him mentally as well, as a sort of retribution that's so typical of him."

Hermione's eyes went wide at this, "Then no. Don't do it Draco. The risk is too much for all of us." And while she knew she was being selfish, she couldn't help but want just this one to be safe. Just this one person to be safe for her.

"But…" and now all eyes turned to Molly Weasley. The plump woman's eyes were red from crying and her orange hair was as messy as a rat's nest, with strands of hair falling out of her bun like a mad woman's. But the figure she cut however to Draco was elegantly tragic and all-too familiarly noble and heart-broken. It brought to mind another woman, who was so beautiful and lovely and dignified despite the dirt streaking her face and the blood on her robes, despite her groveling on the floor, tears streaming down her face in anger, shame and sorrow. Against all the odds, right there and then, Molly Weasley reminded him of his mother.

"Wha…" the Weasley woman tried to control her heaving sobs and hiccups, and continued, "But what if she's stuck in her body somewhere after all? What is she's alive in there, and has been alive in there, suffering? So what if she'll die if this has been an act and Voldemort pulls out? In that case, she's always been dead this whole time. In that case she's left long ago, and is peaceful now. But if we don't find out now…and Fred, if you're wrong…then won't we be leaving Ginny in there to rot?"

Shacklebolt let out a deep breath and put his arm on her shoulder gently. "I understand, Mrs. Weasley. But you're risking Mr. Malfoy's life here as well. Maybe there's some other way…?"

And Draco didn't know if it was because she reminded him so much of his mother at the moment. He didn't know if maybe there was some kind of innate goodness in him after all, or if this was his way of making things up to his mother, or to the Weasleys, or to whomever. But he stood up, and stepped towards the woman of whose children he'd hated for so long, whose children he'd made life hell, and said simply, "I'll do it."


	20. Legilimens

**Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling. **

**Author's note: There is a method to my madness (I hope). Please, bear with me? Also I think I'm taking a few liberties with the Legilimens spell in this chapter. Let's just ah, all imagine that it works in this manner, all right? **

**Again, thanks for all the reviews. I intend to respond to a few of them soon, so to those with any unanswered questions, please wait a while. **

**Chapter 20: Legilimens. **

It was late at night when, unable to sleep, Hermione found herself getting up from her bed and meandering opposite to Draco's in the dark, holding out her hands to feel for any furniture that might be in the way of her bare feet. She sat next to him on the armchair beside his bed, watching him as he slept, reminding her of how, so long ago it seemed, she had done the exact same thing, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up.

His blonde hair was uncharacteristically messy, the golden strands half-falling on his smooth skin and half spraying around his head like a halo. He turned under his blankets, and his hard, wiry arms moved to pull them higher up to his neck. He pouted as he slept, oblivious to the girl next to him whose heart was breaking just seeing him so unburdened and innocent, so soft and worry-free. And she knew she was being selfish and she knew that it was his decision to make, whatever reason it was that spurred him on to make it, but part of her couldn't help but want to scream at him to change his mind, to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, that, sorry, his life was worth more than some Sleeping Beauty who might not ever wake up anyway.

Gasping, she brought a hand up to her lips and felt tears streak their way down from her cheeks. She was being absolutely horrible. Selfish.

"I'm selfish." She unknowingly said aloud.

"Wha? You want to sell me some fish? Gehway from me you dirry fishmonger, I'll have yer know that I'm a Maalfoy…" a half-asleep Draco slurred in his sleep, awakening to see Hermione staring down at him, tears falling from her face.

"'Ermione?" he wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up to look at her. "Granger you all right?"

And she couldn't. She just couldn't say anything to him. Because how do you explain that you're crying because, somehow, a single person has become so much more important than everyone else? How do you explain to someone that, even though you have a chance to make it up to the people you loved most, and who loved you enough to die for you, you don't want to take that chance because it might mean losing someone who has inextricably become so much more important? How do you explain that you suddenly don't mind failing, as long as you have that one person beside you, always.

"Why are you crying you silly girl?" and he smiled at her as she hiccupped her way to an explanation.

"I…I just…don't…I just don't want you to die!" she wailed as she threw herself onto him, causing him to expel his breath with an "oof!"

"Hermione?" He pulled her close to him, wrapping his strong arms around her into a tight bear hug, then moved his head backward so he could look at her more clearly. "Hermione don't be silly. Don't cry. Please don't cry." And he smoothed her rebellious hair down and wiped away her tears and all of it just made her feel as if she were seven again and had just thrown herself into her parents' bed after a particularly bad dream.

"Hermione," he said again, softly, "There's really nothing to worry about you know. It's not as dangerous as all of us made it out to be, especially now that Pomfrey's found a way to safeguard against Voldemort attacking my mind. So really, there's nothing to be afraid of. The worse that could happen is that the Weaselette might die," and at this Hermione wailed even louder as her guilty feelings assailed her.

"Um…not that she will of course" he corrected himself hastily, "and ah…there is a chance that I might still go into a coma, but that's okay because I know you're smart, and you can just learn Legilimency really quickly and then come in and get me!"

She couldn't help herself, she giggled at his ridiculous back-up plan.

"Now will you stop crying Granger? You've got salt-tears all over my shirt!" She pulled out his pillow from under him and smacked him in the face with it.

"Ow! Not the face!" he grumbled.

She settled back into his arms, reveling in the feel of him and they lay there contently for a few moments before she thought to ask, "Do you think you could actually do it though, as in, perform the spell on her?"

"Well…I'm not a particularly accomplished Legilimens, so I don't really know actually if I'll be able to break in. I mean, ha, the number of times I've been thrown out on my arse from Snape's mind are uncountable. And well…it's not as if I've performed it on anyone other than a few muggles…" she frowned up at him and he shrugged, "Well…fine I know you're against this sort of thing but their minds are much easier to read than the average witch or wizard. They don't have the protective barriers that we naturally have."

Her frown deepened and he threw his arms up exasperatedly, "Well it doesn't hurt when I try to read their minds, stop looking at me like that! Snape told me to practice this way!"

She lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him in what was a characteristically Draco Malfoy look and replied, "Oh right, blame it on Snape."

"Hermione…" he whined, "I thought that this was supposed to be the romantic last few moments before my dangerous deed tomorrow?"

Without any warning, he flipped her over so that now she was pinned under him and he was on top, the full length of his body pressing against hers, his arms on either side of her, causing her to give an undignified yelp. His hair fell over his pale face and he moved to kiss her lightly on her neck, making her catch her breath.

"You know…" he said huskily, "I may not survive tomorrow…"

She responded by kneeing him in the groin, and as he fell off the bed with a howl, she leaned over and yelled, "Draco Malfoy you are incorrigible!"

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"Mr. Malfoy I hope you were listening carefully to my explanations. You do know what to do now don't you? At any sign of trouble…any sign that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has sensed you, you are to get yourself out of there, you understand? Now we have a system that will sense her and your vital signs, and Hermione there will warn you if we notice anything amiss."

"Yes Madam Pomfrey," said Draco softly.

Hermione noticed that his face was unnaturally whiter than usual as he walked forward and sat down on the chair opposite a dazed but awake Ginny. The Quiesco potion had earlier been administered by Madam Pomfrey and the girl seemed to her almost like a zombie now. She wasn't spewing obscenities at everyone in the room like she usually did when she was awake, but she wasn't quite asleep either, just perhaps…like how one would be sleepwalking.

She quietly walked across the room towards him, the heels of her sensible shoes clicking against the tiled floor and placed her hand on his shoulder, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to you know," she whispered.

"Well…" he gave a nervous laugh, "Now that you mention it, I kind of don't feel like doing this anymore actually. But, ah well, a Malfoy never breaks his word does he?" He winked at her and she had to smile at his false bravado.

She stayed where she was, by his side, and with the Weasleys and Shacklebolt looking on, Draco tried to focus and concentrated on looking into Ginny's eyes. Once he felt that he had obtained the proper concentration that was required for such a spell, he uttered a single word, "Legilimens."

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All at once he was thrown into a world that was thorny and dark, and right then and there he almost gave the Weaselette up for lost. But then he caught sight of something he thought he'd never see again; or, more specifically, someone.

Harry Bloody Potter. Without thinking, he leapt into the memories.

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And regretted it almost all at once, because surrounding him everywhere, in full color and surround sound, was that pouf Saint Potter himself!

Potter flying on his bloody broomstick, Potter hunched over the table doing his bloody homework, Potter standing over what seemed to be a bloody huge snake, Potter smiling, Potter seemingly gazing at something with a bloody stupid love-struck look, and Potter with his mouth puckered up so close that Draco almost screamed.

He belated realized that these were indeed the Weaselette's memories and that he was quite lucky that they weren't Voldemort's because on hindsight, both the girl and the monster were quite obsessed with the man, and images of Potter might very well mean memories of Voldemort's as well.

There were other…more…disturbing images of Potter to say the least and after having a few of them stare him in the face he was quite ready to bolt out of this god-forsaken place and leave. Naked Potter was not what he'd signed up for.

Just as he was about to though he began to notice a very strange pattern in some of the Weaselette's memories. There were areas and places where there seemed to be gaps in her memories, huge, black gaping holes where images should have been. There were almost…hollow echoing sounds coming from those images and Draco passed by them quickly, knowing them to probably lead to the _other_ one's mind and memories. These gaps in her memories came more and more often till whatever memories the She-Weasel had finally just…ended with one last memory of a disgustingly happy and grinning Potter.

That's about it then, he thought. She definitely is still in here somewhere, but where?

He looked around him, the memories all blowing past like so much dust in the wind. And then he noticed something like an…entryway almost to the side of the black holes. Just as he had seen it however it flickered out of existence as if it were never there. After a moment, he realized that it had wavered into existence once again, now only a few hands lengths next to him. Unlike the black holes however this gap in the memories was a white-parchment like color, a blank slate one could say. Standing before it, he decided to take the plunge and walked in.

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Outside in the real world the occupants of the Infirmary stared at Ginny and Draco's vitals

"Are they doing all right Madam Pomfrey?" asked Hermione querulously.

"Well…there was a point where things were fluctuating a bit, not dangerously of course, but now…they both seemed to have stabilized, back to their normal states."

"Thank you so much Madam Pomfrey," said Hermione warmly as she let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Around her the Weasleys also seemed to relax as the bright, laser-like replicas of Ginny and Draco's bodies hummed and beeped.

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Draco felt a slight resistance to his entry as he moved in. But it was only that – a resistance as slight as perhaps a draft of wind on a cold winter's day. Stepping in, he surveyed the new world into which he had come to.

It was empty.

Empty as in, there was absolutely nothing there. It was a wide expanse of space, stretching as far as the eye could see. The space around him was that same white-parchment colour of the entryway, and for the life of him he could not figure out what this place was all about. He was flabbergasted. He turned around towards the entryway, wanting to leave this strange place, but realized then that it had disappeared.

Well bloody Merlin's balls. How the heck was he supposed to get himself out of this one?

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"How are they?"

"Stable so far, doing well."

"How long has he been in this trance?"

"About an hour and a half or so, perhaps, maybe longer."

A terse silence.

"How much longer has he got?"

"Till the girl wakes up? Thirty minutes."

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He tried charging against the 'walls', but after a few futile minutes realized that he was only going to injure himself if he kept up with this since there were no walls anyway and that he was just going to end up continually throwing himself onto the hard ground.

He smacked it for good measure. It was solid, firm. Why wasn't anything else in this world like this?

He'd already run what seemed to be hundreds of meters in one direction but he had still not come any closer towards the end or edge of this space. It seemed to stretch indefinitely.

For the first time since entering, he began to sweat.

That's it then, he thought. I'm getting the hell out of here. Sitting down in a cross-legged position, he tried to concentrate on leaving Ginny's mind.

He opened his eyes once again and the sight before him made his mouth drop open.

He was still here.

Why was he still here?

Why couldn't he leave!

"Not funny," he muttered to himself. "This is not funny at all, do you understand Weasley? This is not funny, so stop playing your stupid games! Let me out!" he shouted to no one in particular.

"_Let me out let me out!"_ His voice echoed uselessly back to him, mocking him as he shut his eyes and tried to count to ten.

Just as he reached "nine" he felt a tap on his shoulder.

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And as he turned around to face the girl he had come in here to save, he found himself immediately transfixed by her frightened blood-shot eyes. And as he took a step forward, he found himself falling into them.

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"_Down and down the rabbit hole, where it goes, no one knows."_

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	21. Do You See What I See

**Disclaimer: The characters and storylines of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. **

**Author's Note: First of all let me apologize for the long wait and also for the shortness of this update. Graduating, moving to a different country, and starting a new job does cause one to become quite distracted from writing, unfortunately. But, I'm back, and hopefully this is but one of a long series of updates. **

**Chapter 21**

He could remember running. The wind blowing in his face. The feel of salt from the sea spray prickling at his skin. The touch of skin on skin.

And then the blessed silence exploded all at once, hurtling him towards a world where patches of red and black burst across his eyes. He watched.

_A page turned, crackling as its owner used one long yellow fingernail to flip it forward. The words were of a language that he did not understand, strange markings scattered across the page like the scratchings of a fowl. The room...did not initially seem special or different, but Draco soon noticed that it was filled with the usual embellishments of evil: the shrunken elf heads on the wall (a decorative piece he knew Hermione would scream bloody murder about), the Hand of Glory on the mantelpiece, and, last but not least, the shuddering books on the shelf that shook violently and moaned eerily every few minutes. Nevertheless, the room, oddly, had a decidedly homey feel to him, as if he had been in that very same room many times in the…_

_The door knocked sharply and as his point of view moved languidly upwards, Draco was startled to hear a high-pitched voice that was not his own emanate throughout the room, "Enter." _

_A long brown haired man walked into the room, and bowed smartly towards him. He was carrying a generic black rubbish bag, which he now reached into, and, unexpectedly, pulled out a long eared bunny rabbit with unusually large front teeth. He held it out towards the owner of the voice._

"_Sire, I have him."_

_Draco wanted to burst out laughing. Was this some kind of a joke? What had the bunny rabbit done, eh? Twitched its ears at the wrong person? Eaten all the carrots in the vegetable patch?_

_What he witnessed later on however made him wish he hadn't been there. For what he had seen would probably cause him to lose his appetite for a very, very, long time. _

_A single whispered hiss from the owner of the voice and the rabbit immediately morphed into a chicken. It flapped its wings, once, twice, looking bewilderedly around itself and clucked warily. Just as unexpectedly it then changed into a rat, and before it could get away, into a spider, then, a mongoose, and a robin, a hedgehog, and then so quickly it was two or three animals at a time, and suddenly it seemed to Draco as if he were watching it in slow motion, and with every change, he could hear bone wrench and muscles twist and flesh bulge…the creature, for he could find no other word to describe it soon became a throbbing coil of guts, tissue, blood and gore. He heard its shrieks and disgusting whimpers as it was turned inside out and stretched into every imaginable shape there was, until with another indiscernible murmur from the voice the 'creature' took the shape of a man, who flopped onto the ground, gasping for breath. The man lifted his head and Draco realized that he was everyone's favourite ex-Executioner, Macnair._

"_And what have you got to say for yourself? Hmm?"_

_Macnair scrabbled on the stone floor and tried to stand up, but something seemed to be keeping him down. The sound of his fingernails screeching across the floor made Draco wince. _

"_Master…I…I have tried my very best to serve you! I have always been loyal! Always! Please…give me a chance…please…" he started to sob, a sight which even Draco found disturbing to watch. _

_The owner of the voice laughed. With a lazy flick of a wand Macnair was now jerked up by his neck into the air, desperately flailing at the invisible holds that kept him trapped. _

"_Please! Master! Most beloved Master! No….no! I will serve you better than you can ever imagine! I will capture that mudblood bitch Granger! I will…no…please no…don't kill me! No!"_

_To Draco, it was somewhat ironic that the man who used to revel in killing people in situations such as this would be so afraid at his own execution. He heard a loud sound, and realized that the frightened old man had defecated into his own trousers. _

"_Pathetic," hissed the owner of the voice. "You're a failure, Macnair, an utter failure, and you do not deserve to belong to my army. Now die. Fervefacio." _

_And as the screaming began Draco tried to look away, but he could not. He tried closing his eyes, but nothing worked, for here he was nothing but a disembodied form, forced to listen and see whatever this man…this mad man saw or did. And it was terrifying. To be trapped like this forever was worse than the death that Macnair was receiving, for here there was no peace at the end of the tunnel. There was no rest. _

_Finally, it was over. The awful voice hissed once more, "You _will_ ensure that everyone finds out what had happened to Macnair?"_

_The brown-haired man looked as though he wanted to empty his own insides but somehow managed to keep it together long enough to nod once and then leave the room swiftly on two feet, dragging the cooked body of the recently departed Macnair as he left. Draco admired the resolve of the man. If it were he, he would have been spewing all across the room by now. _

_He hadn't time to ponder why he was even in this god-forsaken place as Ginny Weasley abruptly popped out of nowhere, right in front of him, her eyes sunken and face pale, a ghostly remnant of what she had once been. The owner of the voice did not seem to notice her, but Draco could see her staring jarringly right at him. _

"_You see what I see?" _

"What_?"_

And as soon as the images had come, they left him. He looked around, and realized that he was once again in the white room. He trembled, tried to stop himself on the rationalization that Malfoys did not tremble.

Malfoys felt no fear.

But there he was, shaking, and he couldn't stop himself. Try as he might he could not stop.

He ran for the entryway that popped up seemingly out of nowhere a few ways away from him, jumped through, and landed back in the Infirmary, where he promptly threw up this morning's breakfast, as well as everything he had eaten in the last two days. Amidst his pitiful heaving and spitting of vomit, blood, and saliva he managed to gasp one name, "Voldemort!"

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	22. Voldemort

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am only playing with (torturing) the characters for a little bit, after which I will put them back into her box of toys, where they belong.**

**Author's Note: Eh, so I know my last update was a very long time ago. I'm sorry for the delay. I'm also sorry if this chapter's a bit crappy, I got stuck at this part of the storyline for a very long time as you can see and now I just want to get it over with so I can proceed with the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who had reviewed! **

**Chapter 22**

Years later, when he had the time to reflect on the past, it occurred to him that it wasn't the sight of McNair writhing so pitifully that had made his skin crawl. It had been the thought of: What if the person being tortured had been him? What if it had been Granger? Nothing was more frightening than seeing something so terrible, and then wondering when one's time would finally be up. Because it had to be, hadn't it? One could only escape for so long before everything that had been held off rushed greedily up to one to devour it.

He had always been a selfish git, and that had never changed. His experiences with loss and a stark determination had lessened his cowardliness; but the selfishness had always been there, somewhere inside of him, even when he had seemingly been selflessly caring for Hogwarts, and caring for the members of the Order.

That episode had taught him one thing: If it had not been for revenge, and for Hermione, he would have run far, far away from all this, long ago.

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He had come to only days later, according to Madam Pomfrey. And while his head hurt like hell and his muscles ached so much he wanted to rip them from the bone, seeing the glistening eyes of Hermione as she tried not to cry in front of him somehow made his insane bout of heroism seem all worthwhile.

"I…I thought you were gone, Draco," she sniffed, brushing the errant tears away from her muddy brown eyes (that they were, but they were still beautiful to him), "And then even though you came back, we almost…we almost lost you…so many times."

By Merlin's checkered trousers, he'd never seen her so pitiful and yet at the same time so adorable in his entire life. Her voice squeaked in several places, her hair was, as usual, a mess that could only be best described as 'rat's nest', her nose was red and swollen and she looked as though she hadn't bathed in days…but…

He immediately reached out to hold her, to encircle her within his arms. She was so soft, so fragile. Where did her usual great strength come from, he wondered? Smiling to himself thankfully as he murmured a soft, "there, there," he stroked her thoroughly unmanageable hair as she finally broke down and sobbed and hiccupped on his shoulder, her crying and his whispering the only sounds in the empty stone room.

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Unfortunately for Longbottom, Granger recovered from her crying fit soon enough, and the torture/training sessions were back in season.

And after feeling so helpless for the past couple of days, Draco had to admit that some Longbottom bashing always managed to be like a soothing balm to his soul.

He smiled wickedly as he blasted another curse at Neville. The other boy squeaked and scrambled behind a cupboard that immediately burst into flames. _Ah, missed him. Too bad._

Another half hour of nonchalant Longbottom maiming ('training', as Draco called it) would continue before something suddenly occurred to him. He had already furnished the Order with the details of his trip into Ginny's mind, and all that had happened during. The problem now was that none of them knew what to make of it. By now it was obvious that the scene Draco had witnessed was one of Voldemort killing Macnair. However, were the images a part of Voldemort's memories? And if so, why would Ginny hold any of his memories? Were they a side effect of his mind control over her? Did they even mean anything at all, or were they some kind of hallucination or dream of Ginny's? But there was something else…

"It was funny though."

"Funny now?" asked Hermione off-handedly as she shot another curse at the pitiful Neville, who only just blocked it in time with a hastily conjured shield.

"Well…while I was there…in that white room and then later on seeing the Dark Lord torture that poor sap, well, I thought…I thought I saw the inside of Malfoy Manor."

All at once Hermione stopped her torture of Neville, who flopped back onto the stone floor thankfully, gasping for breath.

She stared at him as he continued, "Yeah I think it was Malfoy Manor you know. I mean, that was my father's study. I recognize the little elves' heads on the walls and the nicks and scratches on his table. I used to go in there all the time to show Dobby the heads to scare him into doing what I wanted." He sniggered at that, looking out of the corner of his eye for Hermione's inevitable blasting of him and his "cruelty and mistreatment" of the elves. When she didn't say anything and instead just continued to stare at him, he shrugged and continued, "So well yeah. I didn't see much of it, but what I could see I think I sort of recognized."

He stared at the ground, thinking, "There was this…strange hissing sound too. I mean, it practically filled the room, like a sonorous charm or something. I was so pissed off, I couldn't get it to stop."

"Why…why didn't you tell us about this earlier, Draco?" asked Hermione, a frown marring the features of her face.

"Well," he replied archly, "when you're stuck in a weird white room for what seems like days and with no way out in sight, and then have all kinds of weird things happen to you in there, you kind of not think of anything else other than how thankful you are when you finally get out."

Her only reply was to look at the floor pensively. Both teenagers ignored the pitiful, "So is the training over yet?" whimpers from Neville, each deep in thought.

"Draco," said Hermione, finally breaking the silence and causing him to look up at her in curiosity, "Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor last week, at about the time when you were in Ginny's mind."

He rolled his eyes. "So what?" he replied off-handedly. "I'm pretty sure he's in there all the time now. Bloody bugger, taking what is supposed to be my birthright, shacking up in my mansion…" his tone of voice got darker and darker as he continued muttering about Voldemort and his usurpation of his inheritance.

"No he isn't. Our spies have it that he moves all the time now, in order to avoid detection. And Draco, Ginny has never been on the inside of Malfoy Manor."

"And?" he sighed, exasperated with the obtuseness of her line of thought.

"And so we can confirm now that that image of Malfoy Manor couldn't possibly have come from her memories, and she couldn't have possibly made it all up, even though you were in her part of the mind."

"Okay, so they were Voldemort's memories then."

"No!" Now her eyes glittered strangely, and she had the same look she always had whenever she was close to solving a really difficult Arithmancy problem, "The fact that Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor just last week means that there's a possibility that what you had seen weren't just his memories. Ginny, when she was lucid had told me that she sees what Voldemort sees, that she has been trapped in a white room! The timeline fits! Voldemort has only been in Malfoy Manor since last week! Prior to that our scouts have said that he'd been moving around on the Continent, probably Italy and France, for the longest time. Macnair had failed in his mission at Godric's Hollow only about a month ago! Therefore, it is entirely possible that he was killed last week at the manor. Ginny is seeing through Voldemort's eyes! You had seen through their eyes when you were stuck in her mind!"

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	23. Special

**Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling**

**Author's Notes: I apologize if this is full of errors, I wanted to get this chapter out quickly before I put it off again, like I had been doing for weeks! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. Please review if you do, it's what's keeping me writing!**

**Chapter 23**

One could say that there was definitely a sense of expectation in the air. Yet it was expectation tempered with a reluctance to hope for too much; because they'd all been here before, hadn't they? When victory was supposedly oh-so-near at hand, and look where _that_ had got them all.

It was because of these dampened expectations that no one really cheered or whooped out loud when Hermione told them the news of Draco being able to access Voldemort's mind. This of course, caused Hermione to feel very put out indeed.

"Well? Everyone? Don't you see? We have a chance to defeat him now!"

A very insolent "How?" was heard from Lavender.

_Honestly, that girl_, thought Hermione.

"Well, Lavender," she replied somewhat bossily, as was her nature, "Now that we can access his mind, we will be able to know all of his movements, and I mean all of them. Wherever he is, wherever he goes, we'll know it!"

Before she could continue however, an otherwise subdued Neville spoke out, "But…so what if we know where he is?"

She whipped around to look at him, the adrenaline in her blood draining, just a little.

"What do you mean, so what? If we know where he is we can go find him. And it won't be like the last time because this time we'll take him by surprise! We'll know all his plans and his movements!"

He shook his head, silently and disbelievingly, before saying again, this time as soft as a dormouse, "It won't matter. It won't matter. Even if we do catch him unawares…we still won't be able to defeat him. _I_ won't be able to defeat him."

Murmurs started around the room, but everything had gone quiet for Hermione as Neville's words hit her. As if from far away, she could hear Draco telling him not to be a ponce and a coward.

She…she hadn't thought of that. It was true that, at the moment, Neville was in no shape to deal with Voldemort. However, for some reason, she'd thought that he would magically gain the powers he needed, once it was time for the final confrontation. He was The One, wasn't he? It would come to him naturally, wouldn't it?

"But…but Neville," she spluttered, dumbstruck, "The prophecy…you're the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. That's…that's what it said." She laughed weakly, "Oh don't be silly, of course you'll be able to defeat him, you'll have something special he doesn't know about. It'll come to you, surely."

"And what do I have Hermione, that he doesn't know about? What bloody magical thing do I possess that he does not already? Baby fat? A propensity for clumsiness? What special thing have I got?"

It was only the second time that Hermione had seen Neville Longbottom this worked up. The first was when he'd stomped on Bellatrix's dead body. His cheeks were red and his chest heaving, as if he needed to take those deep breaths to calm himself down.

The room however, was silent after his outburst. They all knew he was right, even Hermione, no matter how she'd tried her best to think otherwise. Neville…well, he'd never been hero material, had he? His spells were shite, he couldn't run if packs of ravenous wolves were chasing behind him, he tended to trip over stray objects a lot, and, worse of all, he usually froze up in terror whenever confronted with difficult situations.

A long minute passed as the reality of Neville's lack of abilities sunk in. And now the mood of the room started to edge towards despair, as the occupants of the room began to contemplate how impossible their situation was, even with the kind of vital information Hermione had been able to give them.

"Well," said Draco suddenly, breaking the silence, "You've got us."

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

"What?" he said defensively, as his face turned sheepish, "Look, I know that sounds really sappy but…what do you think most of Voldemort's followers feel for him? With the exception of the Lestranges of course, they have the excuse of insanity."

"Fear," said Hermione, the truth of what Draco was saying dawning upon her all of a sudden. Her eyes shone as she warmed to the topic, "They fear him. Probably hate him. Even if they believe in his ideology, Voldemort's not known to be above killing or torturing his own followers. I don't think they'd love him for that."

"Exactly!" burst out Draco, "You, on the other hand…well I can't say I _love_ you…but I'm sure there are others here who do. I mean…even if I don't love you I don't exactly _hate_ you…well, I mean…I more than _don't hate_ you…I…I respect you…wait, no…well…I _like_ you at the very least. That _should_ count for something, shouldn't it?" He turned his very panicked and red face to Hermione, looking for rescue. Around him the other members of the Order were trying very hard not to laugh, Hermione included. Certainly, professing his 'love' for Neville was probably something the formerly bullying Slytherin had never thought he'd have to do.

Neville, for one looked highly surprised. "You…you like me? I've always thought you despised me. Well…recently you haven't been making fun of as much…and nowadays you only try to curse me during training…"

Draco cut in desperately before Neville could say anymore, "Don't push it, Longbottom! I'm at the very end of my rope here, I am. Just…take what you can get, alright!"

This time, the room did explode in laughter.

An incredibly tickled Fred guffawed loudly, holding his stomach while trying to get the words out, "Yes, Nev, we love you. Just like ickle Draco here loves you…Hahahahaha!"

"It's not funny you know," Draco whined.

"No Neville, seriously." Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her with such hope in his eyes. The poor boy. When was the last time anyone believed in him? He looked as though he had been starving for someone to say these words to him. He needed to hear it so much it shone though in his hungry eyes.

She smiled, and said, "I love you, as a very dear friend. Everyone in this room, I believe, even Draco (and here she winked) loves you, very much. We all believe in you. And I'm not trying to be sappy here, because obviously love alone is not going to make the world alright, it's not going to be bunnies and rainbows and…and everlasting books to read ("AHEM!" coughed Draco loudly) just because we love you. We have to face up to reality. Fear, such as one that is engendered by Voldemort can cause one to do incredible deeds, heinous deeds, yes, but nonetheless incredible." A knowing silence engulfed the room. Being in this war, everyone had known that kind of fear some time or another, some more intimately than others. They all knew what it felt like, and the things it could make them do.

"But believe this: We'll be here, with you, always. We'll never let you carry this burden alone. You can always count on us for anything. You'll never walk alone, Neville. And that's more than what Voldemort can say. Already there, you have an advantage: people who follow you out of love, and not out of fear. And something else he doesn't know about – what it feels like to be loved, what it feels like to love."

And it wasn't much and it might not even be enough at all, in the end, but for now, it was sufficient, at least for Neville.

Looking embarrassed, yet happy, he stammered out, "Al…alright. I'm…sorry for what I said earlier, and for being so negative Hermione. I'll…I'll train harder I guess. I'll get better. I'll not let you down. I…I may not be as strong as Harry…may never be as good as him, but I'll give as good as I've got to that evil bugger."

Just like that, the mood in the room had lightened, and Hermione exhaled in relief. She gave a thankful smile to Draco, who winked cockily in return.

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"…I'm worried that most of our gains are due to the surprise he's feeling that, even without Harry and Dumbledore, we still haven't crumbled to pieces. He's finding out that we're not really the toothless lions he thought we were without them; that the Order is not merely made up of just Harry and Dumbledore. What he additionally forgot was that wounded lions are the most dangerous. It would do us well to remember that too. We have to be cautious about Voldemort regrouping and fighting back."

Draco placed an easy arm around her shoulder, giving her a light kiss on her cheek.

"We'll do alright," he said, simply, and then he gave her a hugely handsome smile, one that made her unable to resist grinning up at him in return, pointing to himself arrogantly with his thumb, "With me around, we won't make the same mistake he did."

As always, he knew what to do to make her relax, to calm her down. With him she could feel like everything would turn out for the better, "Is that so?" she replied, arching her eyebrow in a caricature of how he did it to express his doubt.

He slipped his arm to her waist, and pulled her flush against him, an action that caused her cheeks to colour prettily. They hadn't gone very much for public displays of affection, and so she felt a bit nervous as they walked like this towards the Great Hall. It was times like this, walking down the hallways like an everyday couple that made her marvel at all that had happened in their lives. Draco Malfoy was her boyfriend! It gave her odd shivers to think it.

But then a shout interrupted their teasing, and they turned to see a slight blond haired girl running towards them, face red and half out of breath.

She paused, her hands on her knees, stooping a little to catch her breath, and then she did something very odd indeed; odd, at least, to Draco.

She looked at him, and then she looked away, turning to speak with Hermione.

An outsider might find nothing wrong with what she did at all, but really, the girl had been a Slytherin! Just yesterday she had still been reporting to him, as well as trying to flirt with him and shooting disdainful glances at Hermione whenever she thought he wasn't looking. Why would she look away from him so deliberately, and speak to Hermione instead?

And then he found out why.

"Granger…"

"Yes?" Hermione replied, disengaging herself from Draco's suddenly tight grip.

"It's Lucius Malfoy. He's at the gates, and he wants to speak to Draco."

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	24. Lucius

**Chapter 24**

_The name Lucius frequently calls to mind the devil, dictators, and evil roman emperors. Perhaps then it would not be unusual that the name has become a signifier for evil. However, the true meaning of the name Lucius might surprise some. Like the names of most pureblood witches and wizards, the name derived from Latin. And it meant, most improbably, "Light"._

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"My father." He repeated, blankly.

_My father. _

The problem was, the man had been in Azkaban for so long, and had been so disconnected from everything that was happening in the Wizarding World, that Draco was surprised to hear about him at all, in the midst of the War, in the midst of Neville Longbottom and Hermione and Hogwarts.

"What the hell does he want?" was his first response, one, that unfortunately, escaped from his big gap before he managed to swallow it in.

"How should I know, Malfoy? But he's looking for you and he won't leave, even when we sent a Bat Bogey at him."

Draco felt the urge to laugh. "You sent a bat bogey. After Lucius Malfoy. And did it hit him?"

The Slytherin looked miffed as she replied, "No."

He turned to look at Hermione. Normal girls would have probably looked at him with shining worried eyes at this point, not his Hermione though. She was staring straight ahead, probably thinking of how this development would affect their plans.

"We should meet him." She said, frowning as she did so. "He could give us some information about Voldemort."

He felt his jaw drop open. "You want to meet my father."

"Well, yes, of course," she replied matter-of-factly. "He might have been in jail for awhile, but he obviously managed to break out. And he's here for a reason."

His jaw dropped the rest of the way to his feet, "There is no bloody reason! He's here because he's got nowhere else to go to! And, that's all fine if he's just here for me, but when he finds out I'm with you, he's going to want to hurt you! He's going to…"

He stopped, slightly out of breath, suddenly realizing that he had been speaking very loudly and that the Slytherin girl, amongst others in the hallway, was staring at him.

Sighing exasperatedly, he pulled Hermione by the arm and marched her away from the onlookers. She had to run a bit to catch up with his great strides. Finally, he stopped at a somewhat private alcove and put his large hands on her arms, bending down to look into her eyes, "He hates you. I don't…I don't want to say this to you, but he…he sees you as a mudblood, Hermione. He doesn't…he doesn't have any respect for you whatsoever. At most you're just a tool for him to use. And if he finds out that his only son and heir is with you…is in love with you….he might just think you too pricey a tool to keep around."

She laughed, to his great surprise, "Well of course I know that Draco. Don't be silly."

He gaped. "I'm being silly."

Now it was her turn to put her arms around him, "Draco. You and I, we are no longer children. Our friends in Hogwarts are no longer children either. Everyone in this castle is our ally. I would say that your father is the brave one for coming here, alone and wandless."

"Or he could be deluded," Draco muttered derisively under his breath.

She laughed, "Well whatever he is, you don't have to worry about me Draco. I assure you that whatever his machinations, I can take care of myself."

Turning, she walked towards Greengrass. "Please Daphne, show Mr Malfoy into Hogwarts. I will meet him in the Library."

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"All I'm saying is, he'd better not have any designs on you." Draco muttered as he walked up the stairs toward the fourth floor where the library was. The sounds of the staircases as they swung from landing to landing boomed in his ears. "Hermione, the man may be old but he's as foxy as they come. You should be careful." They stopped then, standing at the precipice of one of the stairways, waiting for the next staircase to swing towards them so they could continue their climb up to the library.

Hermione laughed, and was most amused indeed at what he was saying; there had been a time when she would have sworn Ron would have cut off his right arm before ever hearing those words from his lips, "Draco, you talk about the man as if he's the most dangerous, untrustworthy person in all of England. And here I remember how you used to boast of him when we were in school. You were always, '_My father this_' and '_My father that_' and, oh, this is my favourite, '_You better watch out, or my father will get you!_'"

Draco coloured as he belatedly remembered his past hero-worship of Lucius Malfoy.

It was strange though, thinking that way and speaking that way of his father. There had indeed been a time when he used to think the sun rose and set on his golden head. Lucius was everything to Draco, he loved him, admired him, wanted to be him. He had thought he was invincible. He was his Light.

Until of course, Lucius got thrown into Azkaban, and all that illusion fell away. And then his mother was murdered. And all the illusion about the greatness of their so-called "Lord Voldemort" and his "Grand Plans" fell away.

And all Draco was left with was a realization of how stupid he had been all these years.

When he thought about him at all, which was hardly these days, it was mostly along the lines of, "_Why weren't you there you bloody bastard? You were her husband! You were supposed to have protected her!_" And then, when he was feeling particularly pathetic, "_You're my father. You were supposed to have protected me_."

They pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the Library, and stepped in; and there was Lucius Malfoy, leaning against the table, arms folded, staring nonchalantly at the dusty tomes in the opposite bookshelf as if he had all the time in the world.

Four years in Azkaban hadn't changed Lucius Malfoy very much. His hair, while straggly and dirt encrusted, still shone golden and fell in thick long locks around his shoulder. He walked upright, with an arrogant gait. His eyes lit up upon seeing Draco, and it seemed as if he wanted to rush towards and embrace him. But then he saw Draco's hand on Hermione's elbow, and he frowned.

Before he could say anything however, Hermione gave a brisk smile, and motioned for Lucius to sit down at the table he was leaning against.

Lucius returned the smile with one as sarcastically ingratiating as Draco had ever seen him give, and proceeded to sit gingerly down onto the Library chair Hermione had gestured to him, as if there were some kind of germ on the chair he hadn't already gotten into contact with while at Azkaban. Hermione herself showed no reaction to how he behaved, and sat very calmly on the opposite side of the table. Draco followed her suit.

Lucius beamed silently to Draco once more, and then turned to Hermione and said, coldly, "Miss Granger, as you can see, my son and I are perfectly fine on our own. I must request that you leave the room."

Hermione however gave as good as she got. Smiling almost as ingratiatingly sweetly at Lucius (the latter was nevertheless still undeniably better at giving evil looks, he was of course, much older and moreover had more practice in front of the mirror) she sighed, and said almost regretfully, "Unfortunately Mr Malfoy, as you are an escaped Azkaban convict, I'm afraid I can't leave you alone with your son. After all, I am Commander of Hogwarts, it is my responsibility to ensure that you don't run away again while my back was turned."

If the woman weren't so pretty, Draco would swear she looked a whole lot like Umbridge at that moment.

Lucius stiffened, and said softly and dangerously with a slight sneer, "Young lady, I managed to escape Azkaban, a fortress with 500 guards and four solid walls all around in the middle of the sea; wandless I might add. What makes you think I can't get past you and the little…children you call your fighters?"

"Well, for one, you are speaking to the person who did destroy the Dementors…and, if there are any problems…" and her wand hand moved so quickly Draco didn't even have time to blink, "we do have your son as hostage."

Draco felt the cold tip of Hermione's wand push into the side of his stomach, and, for the second time that day, he felt his jaw drop to the floor.

"Necto Caecus!"

She smiled triumphantly, "And now, Mr Malfoy, you should know this spell. After all, it is quite a dark one I found in one of the books the Ministry had confiscated from you before the Mansion was taken over by Voldemort. The invisible handcuffs. If you try to take Draco more than a mile away from me, he will die. If say, you decide to run away again, perhaps then I will send Draco away from myself, and then, well…we wouldn't want that, do we?"

Lucius's face contorted with rage. "You…" he seethed, "How could you do that? I heard that my son was your own ally! Have you so-called 'heroes' no honour? I should have known you Mudbloods would betray us wizard-kind any chance you could get!"

"Now now, Mr Malfoy, enough with the foul name-calling. If you antagonize me I might just get angry enough and – " she snapped her fingers, and Lucius lunged toward her, barely managing to stop himself when he realized she was merely teasing him – for now.

"– and make a hasty decision without thinking it through," she completed, with a brittle smile on her face.

_Checkmate. _

Draco tried to keep the expression on his face as neutral as possible. He could barely keep himself from turning on Hermione and asking her what the hell she thought she was on about. He too recognized that spell. It was one the Malfoys of old used to use on their house elves, before the Ministry outlawed it. And she had cast it too, Malfoy could feel something invisible yet clingy settle over him the instant the spell was cast.

But…he trusted her after all, and so decided to keep calm and ask the questions later. Instead, he turned his eyes towards his father, and tried to use all the wiles he had ever been taught by the old man to try to fool him into thinking this was serious, and he should acquiesce for now.

Lucius locked eyes with him for a moment, and Draco was extremely guilty to see that Lucius was actually alarmed and worried at the turn of events. He gave a slight nod to Draco, as if they were the ones collaborating, and not the other way around.

Sitting back in his seat, he gave a grudging smile of respect, "I see the rumours were true. You are a formidable and despicable opponent Ms Granger." He smiled now, a different smile, one that Hermione found herself hard-pressed to define. It worried her for a while, but she brushed it off in the glow of the impending capture of the King.

Lucius continued, "I will try my best to help you however I can. Please remember, however, that I have not been a part of Voldemort's inner circle for some years. I may barely be able to give you the names of his spies in the Ministry, his most dangerous spells, and so on."

Hermione leaned forward eagerly, "That would be perfect, Lucius. Don't you worry, I'm sure we'd be able to find something you'd be able to tell us about. For now…let's start with the location Voldemort was last seen at, Malfoy Mansion."

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"I can't believe you did that Hermione! I'm your boyfriend!" Draco burst out, somewhat petulantly, after they had returned to the Slytherin Dungeons.

After Lucius' capitulation, they had spent the next hour discussing with him the secret passageways into Malfoy Mansion that were possibly unknown to Voldemort. Leaving Lucius under guard in one of the professors' old bedrooms, they had walked back to the dungeons, a journey during which, Draco had on a very stormy expression indeed.

She bit her lip and wrung her hands, "I know! I know! I'm so sorry Draco! It's just that, we really need his help! He knows all the secret passageways into Malfoy Mansion, ones that I'm sure, even Voldemort doesn't know about. If Voldemort is still there, or, if he decides to go back in the future…And I wanted to have something to ensure Lucius' cooperation!"

Draco raised his head skyward, letting out a soft sigh, "Well I know that, but you really scared me for a moment! At least tell me what you were planning to do!"

"Okay, okay, I will next time Draco. It's just that there wasn't enough time to tell you, it was just something I thought of in the heat that moment, and it seems that he did believe my bluff." And here Draco was not fooled at all; he noticed that while Hermione still tried to affect an apologetic gait, she was secretly beaming inside at having bluffed Lucius.

Seeing her so pleased with herself, Draco couldn't help but give an affectionate chuckle.

He reached out to hold her hand, "You know, you didn't really have to cast a spell to keep me with you. If you wanted me beside you always, you could've just told me. No need to go to such great lengths."

He pulled her against him and wound his arms around her, placing his chin on the top of her head, and continued jokingly, "Of course, I am honoured by your actions, I never knew you loved me so much. I mean, there were many girls who'd developed crushes on me during my school days, but none as obsessed as you are to place such a spell on my person, you must find me utterly delicious…"

And that was as far as he got before she shrieked and turned in his arms so she could smack him on his shoulder, but he'd held on to her hands too tightly for that, of course, and turned her around and kissed her on her apple red lips instead.

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**Sorry this took so long guys, I hope it was alright. I had originally wanted to make this a longer chapter, but alas kept procrastinating on completing it. I figured it would be better to post a new chapter now then wait any longer. **

**Thanks to all who had read and reviewed previously! Your comments are very much appreciated! They are, after all, what fuel me to continue writing. **


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